


Touch Therapy

by FoggyBlues



Series: Touch [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Copious amounts of touching, Crying, Doctor Who Mugs, Emotions, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, The road is long and bumpy but their love is pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 164,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23224999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoggyBlues/pseuds/FoggyBlues
Summary: ~COMPLETE~Spencer meant to bring Luke a book. He didn't plan on sobbing into his shoulder on the man's couch.
Relationships: Luke Alvez/Spencer Reid
Series: Touch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793593
Comments: 1083
Kudos: 710





	1. Doctor Who Mugs

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the day after 12x11 Surface Tension.

Spencer isn't knocking. He's pacing in front of Luke's door, tapping a book against his thigh, but he isn't knocking. This is how Luke finds him as he climbs the stairs home, bag of groceries over his shoulder, and he stands there a moment, entranced by the back-and-forth motion of the clearly flustered doctor.

"Spencer?"

"Luke!" Spencer's startled, as if Luke is the surprising presence here in his own building.

"Surprise!" Luke jokes, but Spencer just looks embarrassed so he doesn't press. "Come on in." He guides his guest to the kitchen and begins putting his purchases away. Spencer resumes his literary percussion solo against his leg and Luke has to hide his smile at the adorable quirk. “So, what brings you by?”

“Huh? Oh, right!” he holds the book in the air. “I brought you this! It’s that book I promised to loan you last week, The Human I: The Development of the Ego. The author takes a 1980s pro-greed stance at times, but the detailed case studies are fascinating and relevant to our work.” The book is set gently on the counter and Spencer not-so-slyly slides his phone from his pocket to check it before tucking it back in.

Luke checks out the cover between putting the milk and cereal away, “Wow, you brought this all the way over here? You didn’t have to do that!”

“Oh, umm…” Spencer frowns, “I- I guess I didn’t.”

“But thank you, that was really nice of you.” Luke watches as Spencer’s shoulders release slightly in relief and Luke lets out his own sigh. He hasn’t known his colleague long, but he certainly considers them to be on friendly terms, and he’s never seen Spencer this nervous. “I was about to make coffee. Would you like some?”

His face lights up, “Yeah! Yes! Yes, that- thank you!” He winces and chuckles at his own stammering. “I’d like to say I’m not normally this awkward, but we both know I am.”

“It’s one of my favorite qualities of yours.” Luke turns away before he can see how Spencer reacts to that. The comment was probably a mistake, too revealing, making Spencer feel exposed. He busies himself with the coffee maker to let the moment pass.

Wittingly or not, Spencer assists with, “Where’s Roxy?”

“She’s on vacation.”

“Your dog goes on vacation? Without you?”

“Yeah,” Luke laughs, realizing how funny that sounds. “You know how unpredictable our schedule is. I’ve got a neighbor who watches her for me. She has two dogs of her own, and when they travel, Roxy goes with. They’re currently camping at Misty Mountain.”

“Well, I hope they’re having a good time.” Spencer laughs, but Luke can tell the sentiment is genuine. The genius is just sweet like that.

When Luke turns around Spencer is again returning his phone to his pocket, but Luke doesn’t mention it. He grabs two mugs and sets them by the percolator. “Do you take milk?”

“Uh, no, thank you.”

Luke sets the sugar bowl and a spoon on the counter before Spencer with a bright smile, “Well, I know you take this.”

“Yeah, I do,” Spencer laughs, bowing his head as he blushes and Luke has to figure out how to make that happen again. “Doctor Who?”

The phrase seems random until Luke follows his eyeline to the coffee mugs, the Doctor Who themed coffee mugs. “Oh! Yeah,” Luke rubs the back of his head in embarrassment. “When you pour hot liquid in, the TARDIS appears. It’s pretty cheesy. I love them.”

“Ooo,” Spencer sounds legitimately delighted as he makes his way closer. “I want to see this.”

Luke obliges, filling their mugs, and sure enough in a matter of seconds two time machines come into view. Spencer picks his up, giving it a closer inspection, “That’s great.” Once his beverage is appropriately sweetened, he follows Luke out to the living room.

As he sits on the couch, Spencer again checks his phone, setting it face-up on the coffee table. It’s the third time, so Luke finally speaks up, “If you have to be somewhere, I’m not gonna be offended.”

“What? I- oh,” Spencer glances again at his phone and Luke watches as the realization of his social faux pas dawns, the look in his eye something worse than embarrassment, and Luke wishes he could physically take his words back.

“Hey, it’s okay. Really, I’m not offended.”

Spencer swallows, frowns, then swallows again. “I’m, uh. I’m waiting for a message. From… From my mom’s doctor. It’s important, I don’t want to miss it.”

“That  _ is _ important,” Luke’s voice is serious, passionate even, as he tries to soothe Spencer. “How’s your mom doing?”

Spencer flinches like he’s been slapped and his voice wavers, “It’s difficult to tell. Sometimes she’s like she was, sometimes she doesn’t know who I am, sometimes she…  _ hates me _ .”

Luke lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. Spencer tenses but doesn’t pull away, so Luke asks, “Is this okay?”

Spencer blinks rapidly against the shining of his eyes. “I think at even the slightest show of affection, I’m going to cry.”

Luke moves their mugs to the coffee table and slides his hand gently along Spencer’s back, “If this makes you cry, then maybe you need to cry.”

Spencer tries to respond, but the word “I” is swollen with tears and it's too late to stop them. Luke pulls gently and Spencer comes easily across his broad chest, his face coming to rest in the crook of Luke’s neck. The first sob sounds painful, like it's being ripped from his throat, and Luke can feel him tremble in his arms. He strokes a hand down Spencer’s spine, his other petting those honey-colored curls, and Spencer succumbs. The emotions ravage his body, like they’ve been growing inside him for so long they have to break him open in places to get out.

Luke holds him through it, whispering comforts into his ear, “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

For all that Spencer collapsed into him through his tears, once he regains control of himself, he stiffens. Luke doesn’t want to let him go, but Spencer pulls away, curling in on himself with his damp face hidden in his hands. “Luke, I’m so sorry! I don’t know what- I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, none of that,” Luke gives Spencer’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze and is rewarded with his face rising from his fingers. He watches the emotions play across it, the pleasure, the need, the shame.

“I swear I didn’t come here to ruin your shirt.”

Luke looks down, sees the wet spot on his shoulder and shrugs, “It’s a shirt. You could ruin them all if it means you feel better.” He squeezes that shoulder again, then runs his hand down his arm. There they are again, playing across Spencer’s face in order: pleasure, need, shame. “I’m gonna get you some water. Just stay here, okay?” There is a very real fear that the moment Luke leaves that shame will overpower everything else Spencer is feeling and he’ll bolt for the door. What a fun Monday that would bring.

Spencer nods dutifully, not making eye contact, so Luke gives him one more squeeze before following through. He comes back with a large glass, because those were a lot of tears shed, and Spencer is crumpled in on himself, looking impossibly small for such a tall man. Luke sits next to him, close, and holds the glass on Spencer’s knee until Spencer can wrap his own hand around it. He takes a tentative sip, then realizes how thirsty he is and downs the rest. Luke takes the glass back, setting it on the table.

“I’m re-watching season 3,” Luke announces, clicking on the TV. The screen is already queued up to Doctor Who.

Spencer blinks, then his eyes widen, “Ooo, this is a good episode!”

“They’re all good episodes.” Luke presses play, then settles in to subtly watch Spencer’s body language from the corner of his eye. It’s exactly what they all promise not to do to each other. He rests his arm along the back of the couch, fingers skimming Spencer’s shoulder again before softly smoothing down his hair.

Spencer lets out a happy sigh, then tenses: pleasure, need, shame.

Luke shouldn’t profile him, shouldn’t use a tactic on him, but Spencer is too good at denying himself happiness, and Luke knows he’s not going to win that war but damn it he’s going to fight this battle. “Your hair is so soft. Is it okay if I touch it?” Luke’s watching him, can see the blush shine on his cheeks before he nods, and that’s a win. Luke smiles and whispers a thanks before turning back to the TV.

Luke’s ministrations are slow, gentle, and Spencer leans into the touch. It’s true that Spencer has amazing hair, and also true that Luke is grateful for this chance to feel it. Those curls slide away and suddenly there’s a weight on his shoulder. Spencer has finally relaxed enough to let sleep take him and in his unconscious state he sought Luke out for comfort. At least, that’s what Luke tells himself as a goofy grin spreads across his face. He holds Spencer close, not letting him slump away, and revels in the calm breaths and warm presence. 

It doesn’t last nearly long enough. Spencer awakens with a startled sniff, “Oh, no, I fell asleep.”

“During David Tennant’s monologue!” Luke teases.

Spencer pulls away, holding his face in his hands again, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I can’t be a normal functioning person today.”

“You’re exhausted,” Luke grasps that familiar shoulder. “You needed a break. I’m really happy you chose to do that here. I’ve enjoyed this time with you.”

Spencer looks at him, really looks at him, eyes meeting Luke’s. Luke can see something forming in those expressive hazel orbs. Spencer opens his mouth to speak but the words just sit there on his tongue. He swallows and tries again.

His phone chirps urgently on the coffee table and Spencer jumps for it. It’s a text, The Text, and Spencer reads it in a flash. The words, “I have to go,” come out with mocking ease. “I’m sorry. This was- I nee- Thank you. So much. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” 

And just like that it’s over.


	2. Prison Eggs

Luke thinks something could have come from that single afternoon of coffee and vulnerability and Spencer pressed warm against him. He’s not sure which road they’d have traveled - friendship, romance, some fraternal bond - but there was momentum, the wheel had begun to turn.

Then Spencer was arrested in Mexico, high as a kite and accused of murder. Then he was denied bail and remanded to federal prison, where he was threatened and beaten and in constant danger which Luke could barely prevent. Then Diana Reid was kidnapped and Spencer was rushed back to prison, this time a Women’s Correctional Facility, to confront Cat Adams and save his mom. Then Peter Lewis killed Stephen Walker, injured the team, and kidnapped Emily Prentiss, and Spencer was suffering PTSS, and then, and then…

And now they’re on six weeks’ leave, a month and a half apart, and Luke knows whatever momentum he and Spencer had is lost. It was too fragile, that one afternoon. Luke thinks it’s a shame. However much of a family their team is, they hardly have a moment for themselves, for togetherness beyond the hunt of serial killers, and Spencer and he deserved whatever might have been between them.

Luke doesn’t think Spencer will be showing up at his door again, all adorably awkward and unannounced, so that’s the second way that Spencer surprises him. The first way is that Spencer actually knocks.

Luke ordered thai food, so he’s expecting the knock. He gives Roxy the stern Stay command and swings the door wide, but when it’s not Julie with a takeout bag and is instead Spencer with a leather satchel, his brain sort of short circuits and he’s left smiling widely like an idiot.

Spencer waves, a jerky flutter of fingers, “I’m sorry, I should have called.”

“No, this is great! Come in, please!” Luke steps out of the way, smile still wide but considerably less dumb.

The click of claws on wood announces Roxy’s presence and Luke is quick to rest a reassuring hand on her back. “Spencer, this is Roxy. Roxy, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Spencer laughs at the formal introduction, giving the dog another one of his small waves. “It’s nice to meet you, Roxy.” Roxy wags in well-mannered excitement.

“Oh, here!” Luke pulls down a canister from the shelf by the door and plucks out a biscuit, holding it out for Spencer. “Give her this and she’ll be your best friend.”

Spencer crouches down until he’s not quite eye-level with her and holds out the treat in an open hand. Roxy mouths it gingerly, sensing Spencer’s trepidation, then trots to the kitchen to devour it. Spencer doesn’t rise, just looks up at Luke with questioning eyes.

“As soon as she comes back, it’s instant friendship, I promise. So, what brings you by?” That question has Spencer looking nervous, arms coming around in a self-hug, so Luke pretends he didn’t ask it. “Come have a seat. Tell me how you’ve been after,” he blows out a laden breath, “everything?”

They each plop on the couch, pushing back into the corners to face each other.

Spencer analyzes his answer before speaking it, “It’s an adjustment. I spent half an hour lying in the dark this morning before I remembered I can turn on my own light. But then I had to go to the effort of cooking breakfast, so I guess it’s not all improvements.” There’s a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth, a small smile that lets Luke in on the joke.

“Missing those prison eggs, are you?”

“Is that what that gray mush was?”

They both laugh and it’s nice, companionable.

There’s another knock at the door and this time it is the thai food. He tips Julie before swinging the bag tantalizingly toward Spencer. “Pad thai? There’s more than enough for both of us if you’re willing to stick around.”

Spencer silently searches his face for a moment, and whatever he finds there has him smile, “Thank you, I’d love that.”

Luke returns the smile, “Be right back.” He goes to the kitchen, grabs a pair of plates and forks, and serves two generous portions. He’s gone less than a minute, but when he returns, he’s lost his seat to the dog. She’s not actually allowed on the furniture when company is over, but she has her head in Spencer’s lap, legs up in the air for belly rubs, and Spencer is watching his fingers run through her fur like it’s mesmerizing. Roxy can stay. Luke takes the chair and sits Spencer’s plate on the coffee table.

Spencer is too entranced to notice, focusing on the revelation: “This is why people have dogs.”

“Dogs are great,” Luke smiles at Roxy’s goofy blissed-out face.

“Roxy’s the first dog to ever like me.”

Luke doesn’t know why that information makes him so sad, fills him with the need to reassure. “Well, you’re doing everything right.”

Spencer hums happily, continuing his gentle strokes down her chest. Luke forks himself some noodles as he watches them, both enamoured with the simple contact. Then Roxy rolls off the couch and pads off to her bed.

“Bye, Roxy,” Spencer calls after her.

“Yeah, sometimes Roxy needs Roxy Time,” Luke explains, but Spencer seems genuinely disappointed at the abandonment so Luke picks up his plate and fills the void beside him. His hand falls to Spencer’s shoulder, a gesture they grew familiar with all those months ago.

Spencer gasps, eyes falling shut, and his shoulder moves slightly. Luke is worried he’s trying to push him off but quickly realizes he’s pressing into his palm, seeking out the touch. Luke moves back and forth, a simple shoulder rub, and he watches Spencer’s brow furrow in concentration, trying to memorize the sensation. Understanding weighs heavily on Luke: all those months in prison, touch meant danger, pain. Now Spencer can trust the hand on him and he knows not to take it for granted. He possibly even revels in it. Luke wonders idly how often Spencer is touched with love. He’s seen their coworkers grasp his hand and clap his back, even on special occasions hug him, and he wonders if they know how much he needs it.

Spencer senses himself being watched and turns away, pulling his shoulder with him. “Sorry.”

Luke frowns. He almost forgot about that every-present shame. He offers the gift of distraction and clicks on the TV.

Spencer looks at the screen and cocks his head in surprise, “This is the episode we were watching.” It is, queued up to the moment Spencer left in that text-induced rush.

“Well, yeah, I couldn’t exactly sit around watching TV while you were locked up.” It’s more than that, though. There was time both before Mexico and in the three days since Scratch when he was free to lounge, but he was stopped by the hope that maybe he wouldn’t have to watch it alone.

Spencer turns and now their faces are close so his voice is soft, “I know what you did for me, in there, with Calvin Shaw. Getting me protection.” His eyes cloud in memory and a tremor runs through him, “It meant... everything.” He blinks back to the present, locks his gaze with Luke’s, and offers a sincere, “Thank you.”

Luke starts to shrug like it wasn’t a big deal, but it mattered. Of course it mattered, because Spencer matters. “You’re a good person. You didn’t belong in there.”

“You helped me stay a good person.” Spencer rests his hand on Luke’s shoulder, a mirror of their practiced ritual. The hand gently squeezes, rubs side to side exactly three times, before dropping back to his cushion. Luke has a ridiculous thought that he’s training Spencer in affection and Spencer just tried out one of his lessons.

Luke is still holding the remote and it reminds him he hasn’t hit play. Now seems like a good time. They eat their pad thai as The Doctor saves the world with nothing by a sonic screwdriver and a human companion. Luke scrapes his plate clean while Spencer leaves his half full on the table, and Luke’s hand once again finds home on Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer scoots closer, their hips almost touching, and Luke watches intently though the corner of his eye to see where this is going.

Spencer smiles shyly, “Is this too vague a hint to get you to rub my other shoulder?” This feels important. It’s the first time Spencer has given name to the touch, but more importantly, he’s comfortable speaking his desire for it.

Luke traces his palm across his shoulder blades and up to his far shoulder.

Spencer hums happily, “You’re wonderfully tactile.”

“It’s how I show I care.”

“That, and enlisting the assistance of convicted felons.”

Luke isn’t sure if that’s a joke, doesn’t know how to respond, so he just stays quiet.

Spencer clears his throat, as if preparing it for the words about to come through, “You know, Shaw wasn’t the benevolent character he initially seemed. He was behind much of the crime there. Prison... does things to people.”

“Shaw murdered a woman to cover up the fact that he got her pregnant. Prison didn’t do that to him.” Luke hopes he hears the unspoken message: prison didn’t change who you are, either, Spencer.

Spencer pulls back, facing him with wide eyes, but they quickly slip into acceptance, “I think he had my friend killed.”

“And I had him transferred to a prison where people who know what he’s really done are excited to finally meet him.”

The surprise is back, silencing Spencer for a moment before he huffs out a laugh, “Don’t mess with Luke Alvez.”

Luke slides his fingers through Spencer’s curly hair, “Don’t mess with someone I care about.”

The moment is intimate, their faces close and Luke’s hand holding Spencer’s head, and they both allow a silly sound effect to draw their attention back to the screen before things get too tense. Spencer is still pressed up against him, and Luke’s arm is still around him, and the closeness still feels amazing.

Spencer raises his hand, hesitating a moment before placing it on Luke’s knee. He glances at him, swallowing nervously, but when Luke just smiles Spencer relaxes back into him.

The wheel turns slowly, but their momentum is back.


	3. Kinesiology Minor

The text message arrives while Luke is drying off from his post-run shower.

_Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Would it be okay if I came over?_

Excitement bubbles up like a sugar rush and suddenly Luke finds himself caring about what he’s going to wear.

_Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _That would be great!_

The red shirt with the three quarter sleeves and dark jeans. Definitely.

_Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _That’s convenient because I’m already at your building._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Knock, knock, Neo._

There are two raps on the door. Luke hops into his second pant leg and his voice is a little breathless when he answers, “Hey!”

“Hey, sorry, that doesn’t really count as calling ahead.”

“Baby steps,” Luke quips.

Spencer lays his satchel by the door and slides out of his shoes like he lives here all of a sudden. He crouches down with a, “Hey, Roxy!” just as the dog approaches and gives her the mandated ear scratches. When he rises he moves a bit funny and winces.

Luke notices. “What happened to you?”

Spencer looks embarrassed, a blush even staining his cheek, “Part of my FBI evaluation is getting recertified for the field. It’s why I was already in your neighborhood today - your place is very close to campus, which I imagine is why you chose it.” He senses his own ramble forming and gets back on verbal course, “Today was hand-to-hand combat and I may have been too eager to prove myself.” He sticks a fist into his lower back, trying to press the pain away.

Luke hisses in sympathy, “Yeah, Reynolds can be brutal. Did you pull a muscle?”

“I think I pulled,” Spencer tries rolling his shoulders and groans, “every muscle in my upper body.” Luke laughs and Spencer fixes him with a half-hearted glare. “You’re not helping.”

“Actually, you’re about to find out just how helpful a Kinesiology Minor can be,” Luke darts into the kitchen.

Spencer calls after him, opting not to move more than necessary, “Kinesiology?”

“Yeah,” Luke returns with a glass of water and hands it over. “For a while I was thinking about being a physical therapist. You know, before the whole Army Ranger Bounty Hunter thing.” He pulls a blanket from the closet and lays it out on the floor. “It did make me an excellent masseuse, though.”

Spencer is just finishing his drink when his eyes go wide over the glass, “Masseuse?”

Luke nods and taps the blanket in invitation, “I promise it will make it a thousand times better.”

Spencer hesitates, slowly setting the empty glass on a coaster on the coffee table, intentionally facing away as he processes. Luke is patient. Spencer finally turns back, “Thank you. I- yes.” He settles face-down on the blanket, moving in a way that speaks to his growing aches, and hides his face in the circle of his arms.

“Okay, first I’m going to run my hands along your back looking for muscle tension,” Luke explains before laying a gentle hand on Spencer’s shoulder. It’s a vulnerable position lying prone and unseeing, so Luke goes slowly and comforts the genius with information. “Now, it’s gonna hurt for a bit but that’s just me reminding your muscles how to behave. If it’s too much just tell me and I’ll ease off. I promise by the end it will feel amazing.”

Spencer makes an approving sound and Luke presses in. He starts at the top, kneading Spencer’s neck, the skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. He hears Spencer’s breath hitch as he rubs away the tension into his hairline. It’s a soft whimper when he reaches the junction with his shoulders. Luke adds pressure and Spencer gasps, another push and he whines.

“Too much?” Luke asks, soothing with a softer touch.

Spencer contemplates for a while and Luke gently pets while he waits, until finally he replies, “No, you can keep going.”

Luke does, alternating between hard presses and soft strokes. This time, Spencer’s groan sounds more appreciative as things start loosening up. Luke moves lower, down the spine and around the ribs. He finds resistance, pushes through, and hears Spencer moan. He allows the hem of Spencer’s trousers to serve as the boundary, digging into his lower back. This earns him Spencer’s first sigh of pleasure, so he spends considerably more time there. Spencer starts to moan then bites it back.

“Noises are good,” Luke reassures. “They tell me how you’re doing.”

The next sound Spencer makes can be best described as keening and Luke immediately flushes. He lightens up, brushing his palms back up the spine.

“Sorry,” Spencer gasps out breathlessly.

Luke wants to say something but he’s pretty sure, ‘Don’t worry, that was really hot,’ is not going to help, so he has to take a moment to get his libido in check. He lands on, “I told you I was good.”

“Oh, god…” Spencer groans in humiliation. “Can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

“I don’t know. It did some pretty amazing things for my ego.”

“I’m gonna die right here. I’m gonna die here and if you tell anyone about this my ghost will haunt you-ahh!” his voice gets caught in another humiliating whine as Luke’s fingers skim along his sides.

Luke laughs harder than is polite but then reigns himself in, “Okay, okay, as fun as it is to tease you, I need you relaxed for this to work, so I promise I won’t tell anyone about any of this, and I won’t bring it up again, but know that if you make that sound again, it’s basically the highest compliment you can give me.”

“ _ Luke _ ,” Spencer groans in warning.

“Hey, hey, shhh…” Luke runs a placating hand down his back. “Let’s go back to pain management. It’s important.”

Spencer lets out an annoyed huff but his body goes pliant and Luke glides toward another knot of muscle. It’s stubborn as he digs his palm in, drawing a little whimper from the man beneath him. He tries a new angle, leans into it. Spencer hisses with the force of it and Luke adds more weight.

“Hurts,” Spencer gasps out, body flinching away from him.

Luke yanks his hands back like he’s been bitten, or more accurately, like they’ve somehow managed to bite Spencer. “Just soft hands now,” he vows, then lowers his hands until they’re just whispering a touch and waits for Spencer to pull away again. He doesn’t. He’s pliant again, trusting.

Luke writes apologies in long smooth strokes along the planes of his back and Spencer accepts them with soft sighs. He puts all his focus in the soothing touch, becomes so entranced in it that by the time he pulls Spencer’s arms from around his head to ease the tension in them, he finds his face lax in sleep. His lashes rest above those high cheekbones, his pink lips part around little puffs of air. Luke tears his eyes away from the man’s face and forces his attention back to the massage before he starts writing mental poetry about the angle of the man’s jaw.

He draws down the long limbs, shoulder to palm, until the muscles are warm and soft beneath his fingers. Then he stands, careful not to rouse his charge as he grabs another blanket and gently lays it over him.

The couch is far enough away to not disturb the sleeping man while affording an unobstructed view, so that’s where Luke sits. He opts for the quietest activity he knows of, reading, and picks up the half-read copy of The Human I.

Roxy click-clacks into the room, regarding Spencer momentarily before joining Luke on the couch.

“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?”

Roxy wags her tail before curling up against him, which Luke chooses to take as agreement.

He gets through a chapter slowly, his mind working double duty. He learns about a man who suffered a traumatic brain injury, losing all his memories and sense of self, but who somehow retained all his beliefs about right and wrong. More importantly, he learns that Spencer is a side sleeper who curls in on himself and tucks his face into his hands. And when a siren screams by and Spencer doesn’t so much as twitch, Luke learns he sleeps  _ deep _ . He also sleeps beautifully, but Luke doesn’t dwell on that.

When Spencer finally awakens it’s with a sharp inhale through his nose, his face scrunching as if trying to grip that last sliver of unconsciousness. His eyes blink open, darting around in confusion before he grumbles, “Not again.”

Luke laughs at that and Spencer throws him an incredulous expression, “You  _ can _ wake me, you know.”

“You clearly needed it. I’m a man who respects simple needs. You need to cry, I let you. You need to sleep, I let you.”

“And I suppose the need for dignity is more complicated?”

“That’s a want,” Luke replies smugly. “This book is good, by the way.”

Spencer peers at the title, recognizing it as the one he loaned, “I’m glad you like it. Have you gotten to the part about the moral quandaries of humiliating houseguests?”

“I skipped that chapter,” Luke smiles, proud of his own joke.

Spencer just sighs, folding up the blanket in his lap, “How long was I out?”

“Just an hour.”

“I pass out on the floor for less than a REM cycle and I feel more rested than I have in months,” he laughs humorlessly to himself. 

“Can’t sleep?” Luke asks the obvious.

“Yeah,” Spencer nods with a defeated huff, rolling off the other blanket so he can fold it as well.

“I’ve got a remedy for that. Guaranteed eight hours of shuteye. I mean, considering how often you sleep here anyway…”

Spencer ignores the tease, too busy imagining that blissful rest. But then he frowns. “I have to check on my mom.”

Luke hopes his disappointment doesn’t show. Just when did he start being so clingy?

“Would tomorrow work?” Spencer is looking at him with a plea in his eyes and Luke thinks maybe he’s not the only one who’s begun to cling.

Luke lets his joy read clearly on his face, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written Roxy more like a cat than a dog and at this point I just refuse to change it.


	4. Sleepy Time Tea

When Spencer calls, Luke assumes it’s to cancel. He delays this unhappy outcome by letting it ring three times in his hand. He bought new bath oils and fresh tea and he laundered all his bedding - including the comforter, which meant a trip to the laundromat for the large machines and waiting through two dry cycles - so he wants to exist in the reality where he’s about to spend time with Spencer just a bit longer.

He catches it before it goes to voicemail, “Hey.”

“The train is due in two minutes. It’s a 32 minute journey to your station then another six minute walk to your door. Estimated time of arrival: 8:04 PM.”

Luke is silent, still waiting for the words “I can’t make it” for far longer than is logical. He swallows around the lump of anticipated rejection. “Wow, you’re, uh… you’re really making strides in your calling ahead skills.”

“It’s wise to always strive for self-improvement.” The bustle of the crowded station floats on Spencer’s voice. “I’m bringing vietnamese sandwiches, even though it’s well past the standard dinner time and you’ve likely already eaten, but I’ve now visited you twice without bringing you anything and my mother has reminded me that that’s rude. I hope you like lemongrass tofu.” The words come in a flurry and Luke wonders if this is Spencer being nervous or just Spencer being Spencer.

“I guess I’ll let you in, then.”

Spencer laughs and Luke closes his eyes to cement the sound in his memory.

“I’m now officially on the train, and I believe it is also considered rude to talk on the phone during transit, so I will see you soon!”

“See you soon,” Luke parrots. He’s bouncing in excitement and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth and it suddenly dawns on him he’s gone from being attracted to Spencer to forming an actual teenaged crush. He’s got to fan himself off. Giddy blushes are going to put a real cramp in his style and he’s still not sure where Spencer’s heart is at. Besides, tonight is truly about getting Spencer the sleep he needs for his health and wellbeing, not about fueling some pining fantasy. Oh, no, he’s just admitted to pining.

He changes his outfit twice, restyles his hair, and generally annoys Roxy with his pacing by the time Spencer finally arrives at precisely 8:04 PM. Luke whisks the food off to the safety of the kitchen when Spencer gets in some good Roxy scratches.

“So, what is this sleep remedy of yours?” Spencer asks from the archway, leaning against it in a way that’s almost too cool for the doctor. “I left here after your massage completely pain-free, so you should know you’ve set my expectations for another miracle.”

Luke sets his kettle to boil, “It is a secret process, which I will reveal to you one step at a time.” He points to the bag of sandwiches sitting unopened on the island, “Are you hungry?”

“Honestly? All I’ve been able to think about since I left here yesterday is sleeping.”

“You didn’t sleep last night?”

“It’s... complicated?” Spencer tests out the response, seeing if more will be demanded and Luke doesn’t press.

“Well, the first step is herbal tea specially formulated for relaxation.”

Ever the scientist, Spencer asks, “Which herbs?”

Luke deadpans, “The box says Sleepy Time,” which earns him a chuckle and a smile that crinkles Spencer’s eyes. Clearing his throat, Luke has to turn away, and he disguises this by pulling down a mug.

“The TARDIS mug!” Spencer cheers gleefully, happy and relaxed in Luke’s home.

“Yeah, well, it’s not every day you can give Doctor Who memorabilia to an actual doctor.”

Spencer squints skeptically, “Does that alter the experience?”

“It’s a lot better.” Luke forgets to smile, his serious face giving too much meaning, which transforms his response from offhanded to a confession and he can feel Spencer watching him with the same intensity he stares at puzzles. The whistle of the kettle saves him. He pours the hot water over the bag and hands it all over to Spencer so he can watch the time machine appear. “You brought your pyjamas, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Spencer sets the mug down with a gentle tap. “Should I go change?”

“Soon. The key here is warm water. While you drink your tea, you’re also going to take a lavender bath.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shoot into his bangs, “This process is elaborate.”

“Yeah, well,” Luke thinks back to those days when he formulated the process, after coming home and suffering memories no person should have, “I know how fickle sleep can be. It had to be foolproof.” He feels Spencer watching again and this time he refuses to close off. He turns around, takes in those hazel puppydog eyes which are both sympathetic and too understanding because of that overcharged brain behind them, and allows himself to be vulnerable. “I did multiple tours in Iraq.”

“The 75th Ranger Regiment,” Spencer nods. “I read that in your file.”

Luke nods, “You’re not the only one with PTSS, Spencer.” 

Spencer reaches out, curling slender fingers around Luke’s forearm, but Luke needs more. He tugs Spencer forward, pulling him into his chest. Spencer presses his face into Luke’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around tight, and Luke is surprised at the strength with which the normally standoffish man hugs. He cups the back of that curly head and just holds him close.

When Spencer finally pulls away, he sniffs hard and stares at the floor, like he’s been the one exposed.

“I’m gonna go draw that bath,” Luke gives Spencer’s shoulder a quick squeeze so it doesn’t feel like rejection before ducking into the bathroom. The water heats up quickly and he’s surrounded by steam and a calming floral aroma. He turns to find Spencer watching him from the doorway, expression unguarded. He has his mug in one hand while the other holds his folded sleepwear and toiletry bag against his stomach.

“One more touch,” Luke hops up, a single finger in the air. He clicks on a speaker which completes the ambiance with soft spa music. He points to Spencer with a smile and commands, “Think relaxing thoughts.”

Spencer bows his head and laughs. They shuffle around each other in the doorway, Luke exiting and Spencer entering, then Luke pulls the door closed. He absolutely does not think about Spencer undressing behind that door.

Luke putters around his home, refrigerating the sandwiches, turning down a corner of the comforter like he’s running some kind of B&B, then tossing a pillow and blanket on the couch. He makes it through another chapter of The Human I before Spencer emerges, pink-skinned and heavy-lidded from the heat. He’s wearing a matching pair of gray cotton pyjamas and he’s breathtakingly precious.

“I think you’re ready for bed,” Luke rises to guide him. Spencer just hums in response, and with a hand on the small of his back, Luke walks him across the room. He sits him on the bed and crouches before a sound machine. “Any requests for white noise?”

“Ocean waves?” His voice is small, young.

Luke selects ocean waves, then huffs a laugh when he sees Spencer hasn’t moved from where he left him. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.” He pulls up the covers and Spencer slides in. “I’ll be right out there, so just holler if you need anything.”

“Wait,” Spencer grasps his wrist. “Where are you gonna sleep?” His face is pinched in concern, the opposite of relaxed.

Luke runs a soothing hand through Spencer’s hair. “I was an Army Ranger, remember? I’ve slept on actual dirt. The couch is fine.”

Spencer looks like he’s about to put up a sleepy fight, but then Roxy hops on the bed and immediately curls up next to him. He gasps out an excited, “Roxy!” and curls his body around hers. Luke switches off the light and leaves the genius to his slumber.

It’s well after midnight when he’s awoken by a whine. He opens his eyes just in time to get licked in the face. “Roxy? Wuzza matter?” With full consciousness comes realization: something is wrong with Spencer. “Good girl,” Luke gives her a scratch as he hurries into his room.

He hears them from the hallway - panting breath and distressed whimpers. The signs of nightmares are something he, and by extension Roxy, is well familiar with. He sits on the edge of the bed, just out of reach, and says in a low voice, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Spencer, you’re just having a bad dream.”

Roxy tries a more direct approach, pawing at his chest and releasing a single loud bark.

Spencer gasps awake, eyes flashing open before squeezing shut. “I’m safe,” he whispers to himself. “I’m out. I’m safe. I’m out. I’m safe.” He repeats it, a mantra, until his breathing starts to steady.

Luke lays a gentle hand on Spencer’s bicep. “Yeah, Spencer, you’re safe.”

Spencer sighs, long and slow, and all the awful images playing in his mind fly out with it. “I’m with Luke. I’m safe. I’m with Luke. I’m safe.”

“Yes,” Luke conveys an intensity with his eyes that Spencer can’t see but it translates to his voice, “You’re safe with me.”

“Luke?”

Luke leans in, “Yeah?”

Spencer twists, grabbing at his elbow and facing him without opening his eyes, “Stay?”

“Of course,” Luke lifts up in order to get under the covers. Spencer’s grip falls away just as the rest of him surges forward, wrapping around and clinging and Luke holds him just as tight.

He breathes out a “Thank you” against Luke’s chest and slips back into sleep.

Luke drifts in and out of consciousness, rubbing circles in Spencer’s back, feeling him breathe peacefully against him, and overall basking in the sensation of holding the sleep-warmed genius close. He has a feeling he’s moved right past the crush phase, but he doesn’t let himself think about that.

The early sun casts a golden glow about the room when Spencer begins to wiggle against him. Luke tries to soothe his stirring with a smooth stroke down his back and Spencer makes an inquisitive sound in the back of his throat.

Luke holds his breath, unsure what Spencer’s reaction will be to their position. Will he feel vulnerable, his unconscious body being held by another? Or perhaps ashamed to have needed that? Will he remember asking Luke to stay?

“Luke?” Spencer’s sleepy voice pulls Luke from his racing thoughts.

“Yeah, Spencer,” he whispers into his hair. “It’s me.”

Spencer hums happily, snuggles in closer, and drifts off again. Luke nuzzles those curls with his cheek, wondering why he didn’t let himself anticipate happiness.

It’s the responsibilities of the day which drag Luke away from his bed and sleeping companion, but he shuts Spencer in the sanctuary to give him as much rest as his body can possibly muster.

The door doesn’t open until after noon and Spencer emerges like he’s had a life-altering experience. “I just slept for sixteen hours.”

“Congratulations!” Luke smiles from his spot beside Roxy on the couch, book in hand.

“I haven’t slept more than four hours since Mexico. Longer, even. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Stay for lunch?” Luke offers.

Spencer laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“We have vietnamese sandwiches,” Luke smirks. “I hope you like lemongrass tofu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos!


	5. Ussie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with the death of a loved one.

Luke hates funerals. Everyone hates funerals, so this is neither revelatory nor surprising, but he’s currently at a funeral, so the opinion is relevant. He lost his grandmother. She passed away in her sleep less than a week ago. It wasn’t sudden, she was battling for her health for years, but the loss is profound. She helped raise him, she loved him fiercely and he loved her back the same.

The loss of the benevolent matriarch has brought the entire lineage back to the Bronx, and once Maria Gomez’s body is laid in the ground, her mourning descendants gather in the Alvez family home.

Luke comforts his kin, reminiscing about the wonderful woman they lost and reassuring everyone that she knew how much they loved her, until the sadness finally weighs too much and he needs to escape. He slips upstairs into his blissfully empty childhood bedroom and collapses into his old Spiderman comforter. His hands pull out his phone and open the text chain with Spencer without him even thinking about it. He rereads his previous message explaining his reasoning for leaving town and then Spencer’s offering condolences and help. Luke is about to take him up on that.

_Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _I could really use some cheering up._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _I have purchased ice cream for your return. I’m also learning a new recipe so we needn’t s_ _ustain ourselves on takeout alone._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Oh, and I baked dog biscuits because I miss Roxy._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _And I’m babysitting right now and they insist on sending what Henry calls an “ussie.”_

An attachment downloads, a grainy picture taken with Spencer’s ancient phone that barely captures the man and his two godsons in the frame, but Luke can make out his smile. His eyes are crinkled almost shut and his tongue is peaking out from below his top teeth. It’s the smile Spencer has when the joy is overflowing and his words come out half giggles.

“There’s a smile!” Luke’s mother’s voice startles him and he looks up to find her watching him from the hallway.

“Ma,” he starts to get up but before he’s off the bed she’s on it, sitting beside him against the headboard.

“Now, who is it who finally put that smile on your face?”

“I just texted a friend to help cheer me up.” Luke sets his phone face-down out of his mother’s reach, and his expression becomes serious, “How are you doing, Ma?”

She sighs, “Everyone is so sad down there. It’s like a funeral.” She tries to laugh at her own joke but it just comes out as a warm breath. She looks into her son’s warm eyes and pats her chest, “Come here.”

Luke tucks his head under his mother’s chin, curling into their well-practiced comfort cuddle.

She gives his hair a long kiss, exaggerating the sound and squeezing him tight. “I miss her. Of course I do, she was the most amazing woman any of us will ever know, and don’t you even argue to flatter me, we both know it’s true.”

Luke huffs a laugh but doesn’t dare do more to interrupt.

Her hand goes to her throat, to the golden cross seated there around a delicate chain, “The good Lord blessed us with many wonderful years with her, and now I know she is with Him, looking down at us. She deserves to see more than our tears. She deserves to see us living our lives and honoring her spirit.”

“We will, Ma. Grieving takes time, but we will.” This doesn’t seem to satisfy her so Luke decides to remind his mother kindly, “Not everyone inherited your mother’s strength.”

She cups Luke’s cheek affectionately, “You did.” Then she gives his arm a meaningful pat, “Now show me that phone.”

“Ma…”

She pulls back to capture him with those intense eyes that leave no room for argument. He picks up the phone and unlocks the screen before she plucks it away. She squints at the picture for only a moment before smiling, “He’s handsome.”

“Ma, that’s my coworker, Dr. Spencer Reid. I’ve told you about him.”

Her face shows surprise before sliding into a knowing smile, “Yes, you have.”

“It’s not like that…”

“You forget I saw that smile he put on your face.”

“No, really, I don’t even know how he feels about me,” and the pain in that confession must be evident in his voice because she lets up.

“Okay, okay, just one Overbearing Mother Question.” She pauses to let him protest if need be and when he doesn’t she continues, “Are those his children?”

Luke rolls his eyes because he’s seventeen again and his mom is scrutinizing his prom date over a ripped leather jacket. “No, Ma, Spencer doesn’t have any kids. He’s watching his godsons.”

She makes an approving noise before handing Luke’s phone back, then grasps his cheeks so she can watch his eyes, “Luke, all your grandma ever wanted was for us to be happy. Are you happy?”

“Yeah, Ma,” he responds sincerely, “I’m happy.”

“Good,” she pulls his face forward and plants a kiss on his brow. “Now pull up the camera.”

“What?”

“I’m wearing makeup and I’ve managed not to mess it up yet so let’s not let that go to waste. We’re taking a picture like he did.”

“You...want to send him a picture of us?”

“Yes! He sent one to us, now it’s only polite we send one back. Come on, come on!”

Luke puts the phone in selfie mode and clicks. They’re smiling but it doesn’t reach their eyes.

“No, not that one,” his mother disapproves. “Take it again.”

He laughs and they pose again.

“Yes, that one! Send that!”

He does, along with a message stating his mother insisted on sending the picture in response because this still feels a little weird. The reply comes almost immediately.

_Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Thank you, it’s nice to see you! Your mother is a lovely woman._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Is that a Spiderman pillowcase?_

Luke and his mother both laugh joyfully at that, and it bolsters them to return to their roles downstairs as pillars of strength, just as Maria Gomez would have expected of them.


	6. Poorly Defined Pectoral Muscle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two chapters took all day. It's nightfall. When did that happen? I'm the slowest friggin' writer.

_Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _Just landed. Should be home in 90 minutes._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _I’ll be there!_

Spencer is there, standing by Luke’s door with arms full of groceries when Luke arrives. “Hey, Spencer,” Luke greets, and he can hear the weariness in his own voice.

“Hey, Luke,” Spencer’s eyes travel over him, appraising.

“Are you profiling me, or are you just happy to see me?” Luke waggles his eyebrows for effect.

Spencer frowns, considering his response before holding up one of his bags, “I brought that ice cream.”

“Then, I’m happy to see you!” Luke jokes, opening the door to an excited Roxy. “Sit! Good girl.”

“Oh, wait!” Spencer drops his bags to the floor so he can rummage through one of them and pulls out a container of homemade biscuits. “It’s just flour, eggs, peanut butter and pumpkin.”

“Go ahead,” Luke nods when he realizes he’s being asked permission. Roxy accepts with a wag before dashing off to the kitchen to eat in privacy. “That was really nice of you to make those for her.”

“It was a fairly simple recipe, actually. And the ingredients were all inexpensive-”

“Spencer,” Luke gives him a pointed look. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Spencer blushes shyly. Then, it’s back to his bags with him. “Here is your ice cream. I didn’t know which flavor to get so I went with vanilla because it’s viewed as a default, even though the flavor of the vanilla bean itself is complex with regional variants. I’m making coconut curry, though I probably should have asked if you have any food allergies before committing us to a dish.”

“I don’t,” Luke gets in as Spencer takes a breath.

“Good. That’s good. Well, I’ll get you a spoon and then I’ll start on the curry. You’ll hear me rummaging around in your kitchen but I’ll learn the placement of things very quickly. Unless you’d feel more comfortable showing me?”

“Uh, no, have at it.” It’s a bit of a rush trying to keep up with a Spencer Reid whirlwind oration, but suddenly there’s a spoon in his hand and the sounds of chopping from the kitchen and Luke allows himself to be comforted by cold dairy and the sensation of being taken care of.

He plops down on the couch, zoning out to the complex flavor of vanilla, when Roxy joins him. He peaks around to make sure Spencer can’t see before allowing her to lick the spoon. Roxy’s chest is soft, and he might be projecting when he sees sympathy in her round eyes, but he soon replaces the comfort of ice cream with a face full of Roxy’s fur, holding his loved one close. 

The sound of Spencer coming out of the kitchen excites the dog and she hops away to find something interesting to sniff. “Roxy, wait!” Luke calls way too late, and he feels unnaturally cold and alone. 

Spencer appears and takes her seat. He leans back into the armrest and taps his chest, his face a question.

Luke blinks up at him, “Are you offering me a shoulder to cry on?”

“I’m offering you a poorly-defined pectoral muscle, but yes.” He remains still and open, waiting.

Luke leans in, tucking his head under Spencer’s chin, and Spencer’s arms come around him, stroking his hair and down his back. 

“Would you like to talk about her?”

Luke sniffs and the aroma of simmering Indian spices warms him, “Yeah, actually. I really would.” So he does. He tells him about who his grandmother was and recounts his childhood with her. “And I don’t know why she thought that soup recipe was still a secret. We’d all seen her make it a thousand times. But when she caught me spying on her in the kitchen she waved that wooden spoon around like it was one of those neuralyzers from Men in Black.” Spencer laughs and Luke feels it rumble in the chest below his ear, and those expressive fingers are still soothing over him. He remembers that ridiculous thought, that he might be training Spencer in affection, and that was so clearly wrong. No one aside from his own mother has ever made him feel as safe in an embrace as Spencer Reid.

A timer goes off in the kitchen. Spencer doesn’t stop rubbing his back to ask, “Are you hungry?”

Luke sighs because he doesn’t want this to end but he also doesn’t want to deal with burnt food. Also, he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “Yes.”

Spencer squeezes tighter to make the release less jarring. He returns with bowls of curry over basmati rice and it looks and smells amazing and then Spencer is next to him again, a warm presence. He turns on the TV and plays Doctor Who for the familiar noise. 

“You cooked me dinner,” Luke muses before moaning around a bite.

“I’m glad you like it,” Spencer laughs. “I made enough to last you a few days.”

Luke turns his eyes to his friend. He can feel tears in them and he doesn’t know how long they’ve been there. “You’re a really great person, Spencer. And I’m really glad you’re here.”

Spencer stares at him, surprised at the raw compliment. Luke watches the blush form on his cheeks then suddenly Spencer is hugging him fiercely. Luke almost spills his curry but he doesn’t and the hug is perfect and wonderful and amazing. Just as sudden, Spencer pulls back, having just remembered the food himself and he looks worried until he sees the bowl intact. “Sorry!”

That hug would have been worth the curry stains. It would have been worth going hungry for the night, as well, even though Luke knows it wouldn’t have come to that. He means to say something to this effect, but he takes too long thinking and the moment is lost. He goes back to eating and watching a show he’s already seen before.

It’s a while before they speak again, long enough that Spencer has to clear his throat to activate his voice, “Umm, I had things squared away with my mom, if you want…” 

“If I want?” Luke prompts, confident there’s more to that sentence.

Spencer winces, turns away, “I don’t know how you slept on this small couch, but I clearly sleep fine on a blanket on your floor, so…”

“You’re offering to stay the night.” It’s not a question, it’s Luke finally piecing together Spencer’s hints.

“Only if you want! I don’t have to, of course. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone?” Spencer still hasn’t turned back to him.

“Please stay.” Luke has to rely on the encouragement in his voice until Spencer is willing to see it on his face. He gets Spencer’s profile, a sideways glance, which is enough. “And you’re not sleeping on the  _ floor _ , man! That’s just… no. Once you’ve shared a bed with someone, the seal is broken and it’s no longer awkward.”

Spencer nods, staring intently at his knees, so Luke just lets it drop for a while. If Spencer is staying, they have time to talk later. Or maybe it isn’t necessary. He isn’t sure. His mind is ready to sleep, even though his stomach is still begging for more curry. 

“You’re spoiling me. This curry is so much better than my regular takeout place, and I don’t know how I’ll go back.”

“I can make it again.” Spencer’s voice is soft, still shy.

Luke finishes his bowl, setting it on the coffee table to be another day’s problem. “I’m exhausted and I’m going to be blunt. I just really want to be held until I fall asleep right now. Would that be okay with you?”

Spencer nods, quickly enough that it might be enthusiastic, but again, Luke’s mind is running too slow for analysis. “Good. Thank you. I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”

It’s at least ten minutes before Spencer joins him in the bathroom, already dressed in another matching pyjama set, this one in dark blue, which makes Luke feel oddly underdressed for bed in his gym shorts and wash-worn t-shirt. There’s a bit of a tango as they both complete their nighttime rituals in the small bathroom, but then Luke collapses into Spencer’s chest under the covers and Spencer’s arms come around him, and there’s a sense of  _ belonging _ and  _ home _ that Luke doesn’t try to analyze, just feels.

“My grandma would have loved you,” Luke mumbles as he nuzzles into the soft cotton shirt.

Spencer doesn’t say anything to that, just holds Luke tighter, and then Luke is asleep.

Luke wakes to a warm weight on his chest and smiles. Sometime during the night, he went from being held to holding, and he wonders whose needs were being met. Maybe both of theirs. He drags his hand down Spencer’s back and Spencer snuffles awake. Luke watches him check his watch and groan.

“You’re a morning person, aren’t you?” he grumbles.

Luke laughs, “Why? What time is it?”

“It’s  _ morning _ .” Spencer sighs, “I probably should get up, though. Angela’s shift ends in a few hours and she will not stay a minute past.”

“Sounds strict,” Luke comments idly.

“You haven’t met my mother.”

Acting like that’s some sort of invitation, Luke responds brightly, “I’d love to.”

Spencer pulls back into a half push-up in order to look Luke in the face, and his hair is tangled nest upon his head and there’s an imprint on his cheek from Luke’s shirt and his eyes are still only half-open and Luke shouldn’t be paying attention to these things because they are having a conversation. “You want to meet my mom?”

“Sure,” Luke shrugs. “I mean, you’ve met Roxy. And that came out wrong because your mom is nothing like a dog, but Roxy is my family here and your mom is yours and I’d be honored to meet her.”

Spencer is still staring at him, blinking hard, and Luke realizes he doesn’t have contacts or glasses on so maybe he’s just trying to read Luke’s facial expression through the blur.

“Seriously,” Luke assures. “If you’re not comfortable, then never mind, no big deal, but I’d really love to.”

“Okay,” Spencer says like his response surprises even himself. “That… That would be nice. I’ll let you know when she’s having a good day? It might change rapidly, it usually does, but...Yeah.”

Roxy click-clacks into the bedroom and lets out a pointed whine.

“Want to take Roxy for a walk with me before you go?” 

“Yeah,” Spencer smiles like this is a gift, watching a dog sniff the sidewalk until she finds a spot to pee.

“Okay, we’re going to have to go in our pyjamas because she has to go  _ now _ .”

  
  



	7. Clue

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _  
_ _ It appears she is having a good day.  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ Give me two hours! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _  
_ _ I can not guarantee what her mental state will be then, but you may come whenever you're available. _

Luke makes it in ninety minutes. He’s not sure if he should knock, if that might disturb Reid’s mother. This is a rule regarding sleeping babies, not full grown adults, but still, he doesn’t want to mess this up before it’s begun, so he sends a text.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ I’m here. _

Luke hears the phone chirp, then footsteps pad to it from under the old wooden door. Spencer mutters, “Here?” before opening the door.

“Here,” Luke confirms with a smile when their faces meet.

“Hi!” Spencer greets, genuinely excited to see him. “Come in! It’s still, so far so good. Umm, she’s in the room, let me-” He turns just as his mother steps into the main room, her tall figure adorned in a robe. “Mom! This is Luke Alvez. Luke, this is my mother, Diana Reid.”

Diana doesn’t move, surveying from a distance. “I know you,” she decides, her voice unfriendly. “You’ve been stealing the silverware.”

“No! No, Mom, he’s not a thief! He’s a friend.”

Diana shakes her head, unmoved by her son’s placating tone. “I’m quite certain.”

“Mrs. Reid, I brought this for you,” Luke lifts his hand to her and clutched within is a book. Diana looks at it, then at Luke, then again at the book before stepping forward and taking it. She draws delicate fingers over the cover before retreating back into the bedroom, closing the door.

Spencer drags his hands over his face before gaining the courage to face Luke, “I’m so sorry.”

“What, that?” Luke tosses a hand carelessly. “We’re called worse every day on this job.” It’s not exactly true, but Luke’s not really sure what to say right now. The “unsub” in this case would be Spencer’s own mother and that’s dangerous territory.

“How did you know that would work?”

“The book? Ahh…” he rubs the back of his neck. “That was actually for you. I just improvised.”

“For me?” Spencer sends a longing glance at the closed door, toward that new piece of literature. He wants it, but it’s serving to calm his mother now, so he’ll have to be patient. 

“Yeah, there’s a pet-friendly used bookstore in my neighborhood, Dog-Eared. I go there with Roxy sometimes. The owner’s pretty cool and I described you to her and she recommended that book.” It suddenly occurs to him how funny it was to bring a book into a home that could second as a library, that Spencer probably already owns it or has at least read it at his lightning pace.

“You described me?” He’s still distracted, staring after that book.

“Yeah, well, you can tell me how well I did when you read the thing.”

Spencer sighs wistfully then finally turns back to Luke. “She usually comes around, if you want to wait. I know that wasn’t pleasant, so I’d understand if you chose to leave-”

“Spencer, really, it’s fine. Let’s hang out. Show me what you do to relax around here.”

“I...read. Clearly.” He looks around himself at the stacks on stacks of books, but his hand mindlessly twitches toward that  _ new _ book again. “I have a TV, but it’s in there. The noise helps her sometimes. Umm… I am just now realizing how boring my apartment is. I’m sorry… Oh, I have games!” His face lights up and he darts over to one of the many bookcases, dropping to his knees in front of it and sure enough, on the bottom shelf, is a modest collection of classic board games. “Let’s see, I have Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit, Yahtzee, Battleship… This is still boring, isn’t it?”

Would Luke plan himself a day of Yahtzee? No. He hasn’t played anything more juvenile than Poker since he was a teenager, but Spencer is making a real effort here and the circumstances are far less than ideal, so Luke is going to roll with this. Dice pun intended. Besides, he’s pretty sure Spencer can make anything enjoyable. “Clue? Spencer, we’re FBI agents. We have to play Clue.”

The game is clearly a favorite, all the original clue sheets used up and replaced by handwritten ones in Spencer’s abysmal penmanship, but Luke remembers enough that it isn’t a problem. Luke takes a cushion on the well-worn leather couch while Spencer sits across the coffee table in an equally comfortable reading chair, and for the first time, they find themselves opponents. Fortunately for Luke, intellect alone can not convince a die to roll any higher than a 3, so Luke is blowing Spencer out of the water. 

“Okay, I surmise,” Spencer points dramatically to his noggin, brows furrowed in the mimicry of intense thought, “that you are heading for the conservatory in order to trick me into following you there, where you will quickly use the secret passage to take you to the lounge. We both know the murder didn’t take place in the lounge, as I have shown you that card in my hand, and therefore, your true goal is one of the adjacent rooms.”

Luke leans back, stretching his arms behind his head. His face is coy but otherwise unreadable. “But which one, Doctor? You better pick the right one, because I’m about to win.”

“We’ll see about that.” Spencer warms the die between his palms, then drops it to the table. He rolls a 1. Again. “Statistically improbable!”

Luke cackles at his misfortune, and Spencer joins in. The bedroom door opens, silencing them both, and Diana Reid walks out, “You boys keep it down now, and I’ll get you a snack.” She strides past them, straight for the kitchen, and Spencer immediately follows.

“I can make you tea, Mom,” Spencer tries to grab the kettle in her hand.

“Nonsense! You have your friend over. You boys play.”

Spencer successfully extricates the kettle, “Luke can help me. Would you like something to eat? I can make you a sandwich.”

Diana gives her son’s cheek an affectionate pat, “Such a good boy.” With that, she shuts herself back in the bedroom, and Luke feels comfortable joining Spencer.

“I _can_ help,” Luke offers. “Just tell me what to do. My Mama raised a great kitchen assistant.”

Spencer has his head buried in the fridge and when it pops out he looks concerned, “Are you hungry? I didn’t even ask. I can make you a sandwich, as well.”

“I’m good. I fed myself before I came.” Luke takes initiative and starts opening cupboards. He finds mugs, then a few doors later finds boxes of tea. “Which one of these does your mom drink?”

“Oh, thank you. Lady Grey. Umm, would you like coffee?”

“I never turn down coffee,” Luke laughs.

Spencer sets the water to boil and pulls down a french press, whole beans, and a manual grinder. Luke watches with wide eyes, “How do you go from that fancy coffee to the FBI swill?”

“I mask the swill with unhealthy amounts of sugar.” The sandwich he makes is equally as fancy, with romaine lettuce and finely sliced tomatoes. Luke starts to regret not asking for one.

Diana is served her tray in the bedroom and the boys return to their game. Shockingly, Spencer wins, with a triumphant hoot so adorable Luke can’t find it in himself to be a sore loser. They’re in their second round when Diana opens the door again. She watches them for a moment, her face warm, before she speaks, “Luke, honey, you be sure to call your mom if you’re going to stay for dinner. I don’t want her worrying again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke responds automatically.

“Actually, Mom, he already got permission, and you were about to read us that book.” Spencer points to the book tucked in the crook of her arm, the book Luke brought over,  _ his _ book.

Diana looks at the cover, “Right, of course.” Her hand flies to her face, then her hair. “I just need to get my glasses.”

“I’ll get them!” Spencer hops up because he knows if his mother walks away she may not be in this mood once she returns, and disappears into the bedroom

Diana takes Spencer’s chair, as it is the reading chair, and nods approvingly at Luke, “It’s so nice you came over. Spencer has been having a difficult time making friends lately.”

The image of a young, lonely Spencer takes uncomfortable residence in Luke’s imagination. “Spencer is my best friend, Mrs. Reid.”

Diana beams at that, so brightly tears sprout from her eyes, the countenance of a proud mother. “Good. That’s very good. You’re a good boy.”

“Here you go, Mom!” Spencer rushes back, handing over the spectacles and taking the couch cushion next to Luke. The couch has three cushions, and Luke is on one end so Spencer could have easily taken the other end and still been within a friendly distance, but he sits in the middle, close, and it makes Luke think about all the progress they’ve made getting Spencer to be so comfortable around him, near him. It gives him that ‘warm and tingly’ sensation he’s only ever heard about before.

“This is Lost Places, a novel by Madeline Wycox,” Diana begins, turning to the first page. “There is no land that Time forgot. She protects the lost places, lets them age with grace and crumbling beauty…”

Spencer leans in, shoulder to shoulder, knuckles brushing Luke’s knee, and whispers in a voice low enough than his mother doesn’t hear, “Thank you.”

Luke cuddles closer, his reply just as quiet, “No, thank  _ you _ .”


	8. Brunch

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _  
_ _ Would you like to join me for brunch with JJ’s family? It’s tomorrow at 10:00, which I understand is short notice, but the restaurant is in your neighborhood and it’s dog friendly, so you could bring Roxy. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ I’m in! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _  
_ _ Great! The place is called Lucky Dog. I don’t know if you’ve been there before, so I can meet you at your place and walk there with you. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ Sounds perfect! I haven’t been there, but I’ve wanted to go. _

Luke rereads the text exchange at least eight times throughout the rest of the day. Spencer is inviting him to brunch. Surely there’s got to be some romantic context to that. It’s brunch with their friends, so surely there isn’t any romantic context. He goes back and forth, and he’ll drive himself crazy with these thoughts so he goes on a very long run with Roxy. He needs his full elaborate bedtime ritual just to turn off his mind that night, and he has an intense argument with his wardrobe the next morning when it doesn’t supply him with a brand new and perfect outfit. He’s completely smitten and it’s incredibly inconvenient.

When Spencer arrives he’s in a cardigan and trouser ensemble Luke has seen him wear to work. Tally for the Not Romantic column. Spencer gives Roxy one of his biscuits, now filling her canister, then jumps up to hug Luke. They hug now too often for this to be conclusive evidence. Spencer gives him a funny look and Luke realizes his calculations are showing on his face, and he needs to drop it because it ultimately doesn’t matter why Spencer invited him, just that he did.

“Are you okay?” Spencer frowns with worry.

He has to think fast because ‘I can’t tell if you like-like me’ is  _ not _ going to come out of his mouth. “Ahh, I’ve got to do laundry so I’m stuck with this shirt and I don’t think it looks good on me.” What a terrible excuse. He has brought shame on his whole house with that excuse. 

“I think it looks good,” Spencer shrugs, “though that’s likely more due to your physique than the cut of the fabric.”

Luke grins, “My physique?”

“Your defined musculature. That shirt is designed to accentuate it.”

Spencer appreciates his  _ defined musculature _ . Luke quickly jots that in the Romantic column before officially ending the whole tallying business. He pulls the leash off its hook, which brings Roxy running back, and they’re off to brunch.

JJ’s family is already seated at a table on the patio, and it's a raucous Thursday brunch so no one bats an eye when Henry and Michael scream, “Uncle Spence!” and leap at their godfather from their chairs. 

Spencer catches them in each arm and lifts them high, “Oh, no, Henry, you’re taller than me now! When did you get so big?”

Henry giggles, “You picked me up!”

Spencer hoists Michael up even more, “Now Michael’s taller than me, too! Or am I shrinking?” He bends his knees, slowly lowering to the ground. “Am I shrinking, guys?”

“No!” Henry corrects, and Michael just laughs because everyone else is.

“I think I’m shrinking,” Spencer crouches low enough to plant all four little feet on the concrete. “I’m only this tall now.”

JJ watches fondly as her best friend entertains her children, but her face shifts to intrigued when she sees the expression Luke has for Spencer. She taps her husband’s arm and he just responds with a knowing “Mmm-hmm,” behind his orange juice, having seen it, too. “Thank you for joining us today, Luke,” JJ calls to him, breaking his trance.

“Thank you for inviting me! Er, us,” he steps aside to reveal his dog obediently seated with a happy wag. “This is Roxy.”

“A dog!” Henry squeals.

“Henry, show your brother how you act around dogs,” Will uses his Dad Voice.

Henry looks up at Luke, “Can I pet your dog, please?”

Luke crouches down, “Sure. Roxy, this is Henry and Michael. You wanna say hi?” Roxy very much does, and JJ might have to consider getting her children a dog because they are very taken with her.

This time it’s Will who elbows JJ, and JJ looks up to see Spencer looking at Luke the way Luke was looking at him and isn’t that just perfect.

They take their seats and get their orders in and the food is the special kind of delicious that combines culinary school and a half pound of butter. JJ and Spencer reminisce about the happier moments of the old days at the BAU, back when Spencer dressed like a grandpa librarian and JJ didn’t even carry a gun.

“And he was spouting off some fact about Confucius to try and hide the fact that he didn’t know how to use chopsticks,” JJ gets out through her laughter. “He was trying so hard but the food just kept falling all over him, his chair was surrounded by noodles! And he said it was like, wait, what did you say it was like, Spence?”

“I said it was like foraging for food with a pair of number 2 pencils, and I stand by that!” Spencer laughs along.

Luke grasps Spencer’s forearm on the table, “I will teach you how to use chopsticks.”

“I tried!” JJ laments humorously. “He’s hopeless!”

“I am likely hopeless,” Spencer drops his hand on Luke’s shoulder, “but I welcome your tutelage.”

“Uncle Spencer?” Henry tugs on his sleeve. “Michael and I want to go to the arcade.” Spencer hops up at that, taking his godfather duties very seriously.

“This place has an arcade?” Luke asks no one in particular, and JJ replies, “Yeah, it’s really struggling to figure out its identity.”

Will follows his boys with, “Knowing them, I’d better bring the wallet along,” and as soon as the four are out of earshot, JJ gives Luke a knowing grin, “So, Luke, how have you two been spending your leave?”

Luke takes in her expression and finds himself blushing. He nods, “Yeah, we’ve been spending time together.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“But it’s not like that.”

“Oh, it’s not?” Her tone very much states her disbelief.

“No, it’s just friendly. You know Reid.” He uses Spencer’s last name like he’s even thought of him so impersonally for weeks now.

“I do know him,” JJ nods pointedly. “I know he asked yesterday if we could change our brunch plans to a dog-friendly restaurant on the off-chance you might agree to come. I know you touched him, and he let you, and even more than that he touched you.”

Luke shakes his head, “He’s a lot more tactile than you all give him credit for.”

“No,” JJ counters with the authority of fifteen years of experience, “he isn’t. Not with anyone else besides you.”

Luke just stares at her. He can’t move because his mind can’t move because if it goes down this path and it turns out she’s wrong, it’s going to be pretty heartbreaking.

JJ continues, “And don’t think I didn’t see those heart eyes you’ve been sending each other  _ since you got here _ .”

“Sending each other?” Luke asks before his dignity can stop him.

“Yes! I wouldn’t have brought it up like this if it seemed one-sided. And if this puts a finer point on things, I’m pretty sure Spencer just paid for your meal.”

Luke can only imagine how goofy his smile looks right now, but score another tally for the Romantic column. He tries to school his features when Will returns, Michael on his shoulders, followed by Spencer with his hand around Henry’s. Will explains their speedy round-trip, “Welp, the coin machine’s broken and these boys are demandin’ we take them to the arcade at the mall.”

“All right,” JJ immediately gives in, enjoying this time to be a free-willed mom for a change. 

“Uncle Spence,” Henry tugs their joined hands, “can you come with us?”

Before Spencer can answer, JJ does for him, “Uncle Spence and Uncle Luke have plans, Honey.”

Spencer looks to Luke in surprise but Luke just shrugs. Spencer leans down to Henry’s level, “How about I join you next time, okay?”

Henry considers a moment before holding up his hand, “High-five.”

“High-five!” Spencer claps their agreement together.

“Hi-fi!” Michael screams and smacks his father on the head. 

With a furry farewell to Roxy, the group separates, and Spencer and Luke walk quietly back toward Luke’s apartment. They give the dog time to sniff as they meander along the sidewalk before Spencer finally speaks up. “So, apparently we’re dating.”

“Huh?” Luke chokes out.

“Or married. I’m not entirely sure what Will was congratulating me on, but it was definitely in that genre.” Spencer is pulling full Vegas Boy, his poker face not revealing a hint of his feelings on the subject.

Luke scratches the back of his head, still nervous, despite JJ’s evidence, about how this is going to go. “JJ thought the same thing.”

Spencer worries his bottom lip, “Is that okay?”

“Is it okay that they think we’re dating, or would it be okay if we were dating?”

“I...umm...both, I guess?”

“Well, my answer would be the same for both of them.” 

That poker face cracks, and Spencer’s eyes are round and vulnerable as he waits and Luke realizes he hasn’t actually answered yet.

“Yes! Sorry, my answer is yes. For both.”

Spencer stares at him, eyes wide, and then he gulps in a breath because apparently he wasn’t breathing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! Can I… assume it’s the same answer for you?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yes, definitely. Wait, really? You would want to…?”

Luke laughs, “You know, I didn’t think I was that stealthy about my feelings for you, but I’ll spell it out. I’ve been attracted to you for a while now, and I’ve just been waiting to figure out if you feel the same.”

Spencer stares at the ground, readying himself with a deep breath, then meets Luke’s eyes, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” Luke pronounces like ‘duh,’ because it's pretty dang obvious.

“Tonight?”

“ _ Yes _ !”

“We can all go from your place?”

“All?”

“You, me, and Roxy,” Spencer says like it’s obvious a dog is coming along on their date, and it’s so powerful to Luke that Spencer sees how important Roxy is to him and that he wants to support that, and Luke might someday tell Spencer that, but for now, Luke is feeling a bit too giddy.

“You’re dating me to befriend my dog, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks surprised at first, but then his face shifts into a sweet smile. “Maybe I befriended your dog so I could date you.” With that, he turns around and starts walking back toward the train station.

Luke watches him retreat, puzzled at the sudden departure. Roxy seems confused, too.

“Oh!” Spencer shouts, spinning on his heels and running back. “Sorry, I got lost,” he points to his head, to the cavern of knowledge that often swallows him whole. “I have to get ready, and there’s a lot to plan. It has to be- I need to plan. I’ll be back at six?”

“I’ll see you at six.”

Spencer hops excitedly on his toes, then dashes off again at top speed to the train, needing every moment available to plan for tonight. Luke feels his heart dash off with him.


	9. Picnic Basket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2017 and nobody has heard of social distancing. Let's live vicariously!

Half of Luke’s wardrobe is tossed in a pile on his bed. Spencer has seen him in every shirt he owns, and thanks to that eidetic memory of his, he’s going to remember seeing him in every shirt he owns. Not that Spencer would care. Luke has to remind himself Spencer  _ will not care _ . And Luke shouldn’t care about this either; he should be focused on the absolute elation he feels over Spencer asking him out.  _ Spencer _ asked  _ him _ out. And, sure, Spencer seemed oddly shocked Luke would want to date him, which was wild because Luke is so obviously head over heels crazy about the guy and JJ could tell in a single hour. Sure, even as profilers they can be blind when it comes to themselves, but Spencer must be on a different level of self-unawareness. 

If Luke wears one of his work button-ups and doesn’t cuff the sleeve, it looks more presentable. It’s never occurred to him before how casually he dresses for a federal job. Maybe Spencer, with his vests and oxfords, has noticed that. Probably not.

There’s a knock at 5:30 and Luke can tell by Roxy’s wag that it’s Spencer. He opens the door to reveal Spencer in a suit and he looks stunning. He’s bouncing on his toes again, “Sorry I’m early! I was too excited to wait.”

Luke has to pick his jaw up off the floor, because this all feels too good to be real. “Nice suit.”

“Thanks!” Spencer beams as he gives Roxy her required biscuit. “I wore it to catch a serial killer.”

“Me too!” Luke points to his outfit. He can’t take his eyes off Spencer, even when he starts to squirm and blush under the attention. “This is really happening.”

“This? Oh, us…?”

“Dating,” Luke supplies, because it seems Spencer still can’t.

Spencer nods, hands nervously drumming against his leg, and they’ve stalled long enough so Luke grabs Roxy’s leash and they three head out. They’re walking along the sidewalk when Luke thinks to ask, “Where are we going?”

Spencer has a sly smile, hands raised dramatically when he replies, “Where the lost places are found.”

“Is...that a clue?” Luke laughs and at Spencer’s nod he begins to think out loud. “Lost places are found. Like a lost and found but...maps? Maps… Wait, Lost Places. That was the title of that book I got you! You want to go to the bookstore?”

Spencer bounces again, trying to contain his smile. “Sure!”

Luke guides them the four blocks to Dog Eared, holding the door for his date and dog. “Hey, Kimiko!” he greets the owner.

She looks exceptionally excited to see him. Like,  _ way too _ excited. “Good evening, Luke!” She reaches under her counter and grabs something with both hands, holding it out like it’s precious. 

Luke’s brow furrows, “Is that for me?”

“Yes!” she squeals. 

Spencer grazes his hand along Luke’s wrist before taking Roxy’s leash, and Luke steps forward to accept the offering. It’s a red and white checkered canvas cloth. “A picnic blanket?”

Kimiko giggles and Spencer gives another sly smile and shrugs, “It might be.”

“Wait,” something clicks in Luke’s mind, “is this another clue?”

“Kind of,” Spencer nods. “But the next clue is...” he points to Kimiko.

“You have to take Roxy there for a drink!” Kimiko shouts, like the words were trying to escape this whole time.

Luke thinks for a moment, remembering the multiple times she’s recommended this place with that exact phrase. “The Dog House?” She nods enthusiastically, so Luke turns to Spencer to loop him in, “It’s this bar nearby, and the owner let’s people bring their dogs and hang out-”

“He knows!” Kimiko rolls her eyes.

“Right,” Luke chuckles in embarrassment, “because you planned all this.” He looks at Spencer, for the hundredth time today and yet seeing him in a new light. When he asked him to dinner he was just expecting...dinner. This? This is something special. “This is amazing.”

For the first time this date, Spencer looks relaxed, “I’m glad you like it.” His eyes widen with a thought and he turns, “Kimiko, I wanted to thank you. That book you recommended was fantastic, so I am going to, very quickly,” he assures Luke, “take a peek and see if you have anything by that same author. Come on, Roxy.” He heads deep into the shop seeking the W section of Fiction, Roxy happily trotting along.

Kimiko watches him walk off with a smile, then turns a serious face to Luke, “Marry him.”

His eyes bulge comically, “Easy there. This is a first date, wanna tone down the pressure?”

“He’s putting this kind of effort into a first date,” she sticks a finger at his chest. “Marry him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves her off.

“Seriously? This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I want one. Does he have a sister?”

“Nope, he’s one of a kind.”

“Lucky…”

Luke smiles to himself, “Yeah, I am.”

“Ugh, now you’re just bragging.”

Spencer makes it back quickly, two novels in hand and Roxy wagging like perhaps she helped in the search. “You have not one, but two more books by Madeline Wycox! The first one, A Thing With Wings, is 200 pages of prose on the nature of hope.”

“You’ve read it?” Kimiko asks.

“Oh, I just did,” Spencer points to where he came from, forgetting as he often does that his abilities are exceptional and require explanation.

“Yeah,” Luke smirks at the bookshop owner, “he’s also a genius.”

She nods in enough understanding then leans conspiratorially toward Spencer, “He’s been bragging about you.”

Spencer’s brow shoots up in surprise and he has to hide his blushing face in the hunt for his wallet. With a deep breath, he recovers, “Thank you, Kimiko, for the recommendation, helping with tonight, and that clue you came up with. It’s been wonderful meeting you.”

Kimiko hands him his receipt, “You two have an amazing time tonight. To the Dog House with you!”

When they reach the Dog House, the bartender recognizes Spencer and holds up a finger to let them know he’ll be a moment. Spencer smiles and waves his thanks, then turns to Luke, “What would you like to drink?”

“Uh,” he looks at the taps, “Heineken?”

Spencer nods and, still attached to Roxy, bellies up the the bar. When the bartender approaches, Spencer greets him with a small wave, “Hi, again, Ricky!”

“Hey,” he points his thumb behind him, “you ready?”

“I think we’ll order drinks first, if you don’t mind.”

He smiles, “That would be preferable.”

“A Heineken and a gin fizz, please.”

“Coming right up,” he spins to make alcoholic magic.

Spencer turns back to Luke, “It would probably be better for Roxy if we sat at a table.”

Luke looks around the bar before leaning in to his date, “Is there a specific table I’m supposed to choose…?”

“Any one that’s open will do,” he smiles innocently.

“All right,” Luke sits in a nearby chair, waiting for Spencer to hint at something else, but he just sits beside him. Luke sets the picnic blanket on the table before him, fingers dragging along the rough fabric as he contemplates it. “You know, we could have just gone to a restaurant, and I would have had a great time just being with you. But, this… this is something I’m never going to forget.”

Spencer looks at him, a shy smile on his face, and sighs in contentment, “Good.”

“It’s gonna be a tough act for our second date to follow.”

Spencer closes his eyes, savoring for a moment the idea of a second date, then leans in with a smirk, “That is going to be  _ your _ problem.”

Two glasses are set on their table, one a beer and one a cocktail. Ricky looks to Spencer, “Now?”

“Please,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You got it,” he ducks back behind the bar and returns with a basket, setting it on the table.

“Thank you so much, Ricky.” Spencer slips a generous bill into his hand, “Keep the change.”

“Have a good night, you two.”

“This is a picnic basket,” Luke says with confidence. “That’s a picnic blanket, and this is a picnic basket.” He opens the top flaps on the basket. “There’s food in here.”

“Yes,” Spencer does nothing further than confirming the fact.

“We’re having a picnic.”

He nods.

“Are these fried chicken sandwiches?”

“Yes, with potato salad from Carla’s. I’ve seen you eat them at the office. Also there are cookies from The International Bakery because I like them and you need to try them, and the stew is actually from an organic dog food place in Montclair that had good reviews.”

“You went all out,” Luke shakes his head in disbelief. “So, where is this picnic going to be?”

“Silverfield Park. It’s nearby and has a nice grassy area amidst the trees to lay out the blanket. Oh, and there’s a frisbee in there because I thought we should have something to toss for Roxy. Does she catch frisbees?”

“She loves frisbees.” Luke wants to gulp down his beer and get going but Spencer is sipping his, and this is still part of their date, so he tries to just be in the moment. “Can I hold your hand?”

Spencer looks at him in surprise, biting his lip, and then he reaches over and Luke entwines their fingers and Roxy’s leash is wrapped around Spencer’s wrist and it’s the perfect symbol for the evening.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I am right now.” This is easily honest for Luke, and he’s had a pretty good life.

“I’m really happy, too.”

They finish their drinks and walk hand-in-hand to Silverfield Park, where Spencer guides them to a grassy nook in the tree-lined field. The sun is low, casting long shadows that offer privacy from the otherwise buzzing city. While Luke tosses the frisbee for Roxy, Spencer sets up their dinner and he looks a little out of place, seated on the ground in a suit, setting out forks and plates for sandwiches. This is far more Luke’s element than Spencer’s, and he planned it all for him. 

Luke joins, sitting close, and Roxy sniffs the trees until she’s coaxed over by stew. They eat quietly, watching the sky dim, their hands finding each other against the canvas. The sunset brings a cold coastal breeze that has them pack up and head back. They walk slowly, enjoying each other’s presence. Roxy guides them up the building steps, and when they reach Luke’s door, he slides the key in but a hand on his shoulder halts further progress inside. He turns, and Spencer is looking at him with an expression that says  _ this is important _ and Luke fully turns to him.

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight. I had a really nice time,” Spencer’s voice is low, his body close.

“Thank  _ you _ ! You did all the work!” Luke laughs.

Spencer reaches up, hand cupping Luke’s cheek, and he’s looking him in the eye with a request. Luke leans in, their eyes fall closed, and their first kiss is a chaste press of soft lips and warm breath. Luke melts into it, tangling his fingers into Spencer’s hair and pulling him closer. 

Spencer tilts his face, breaking contact, then plants another quick kiss to Luke’s lips before he steps back. “Call me?”

Luke’s panting. “Huh?”

“For our second date?”

“Yeah. Uh, of course.”

Picnic basket swinging from his arm, Spencer turns and leaves. 

Luke watches his back in confusion. He wasn’t expecting him to leave. Spencer always comes in, and Luke was particularly looking forward to Spencer coming in tonight. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Good night, Luke,” he calls without turning back, and then he’s gone.

“Good night…” Luke touches his lips, where he can still feel the tingle of their sweet kiss, and he has a revelation which he chooses to share with Roxy, “I’m dating a gentleman.”


	10. Twinkle Twinkle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did so much research for this chapter, and then I just went and made a whole bunch of stuff up. Also, did you know that a planetarium is not the same as an observatory? Yeah, you probably did, but I didn't!

Luke sees no reason to play coy when it comes to Spencer, so he reaches out to him only an hour after watching him leave.

 _Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _What does your schedule look like? Mine is pretty open._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _I’m available Monday. I know that’s an unconventional day for a date, but I’d prefer not to wait a whole week._

Something flutters in Luke, the thing that’s still flattered the cute guy likes him, the thing that makes him toss his closet inside out and try way harder to be funny.

 _Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _We’ll have to get used to oddly timed dates for when we go back to work ;-)_

Five minutes go by without a response from the usually prompt doctor. Luke rereads his message a few times, wondering if he’d said something wrong. He shouldn’t have used an emoticon. Winky face? Come on, Alvez… Finally, his phone chirps.

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _There’s a possibility I won’t be reinstated, but I look forward to the prospect of future oddly timed dates. I’ll be at the office until 2:00 PM, so we can meet at any point after that._

Luke sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Of course there’s always a chance an agent won’t be cleared to return to duty, but he failed to realize how that might weigh on Spencer.

 _Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _Of course they’ll reinstate you! You make the Bureau look good. And if they don’t, I’ll quit and we can become a crime-fighting duo. Spandex optional._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Thank you, Luke._

 _Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid_ _  
_ _So, how about I pick you up at the office? The earlier we start, the better._

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Sounds perfect._

Luke manages to procure a few new shirts over the weekend, which at the rate he sees Spencer should hold him out for a month. It might just be enough time for him to get over the odd obsession he’s formed with trying to impress Spencer with a fresh wardrobe. When Monday rolls around, he gets Roxy secured with his neighbor, Janie, and makes the short walk to work. He’s still on mandated leave, which the Bureau takes pretty seriously, so he waits on the entrance steps and sends a text letting Spencer know where he is. Spencer throws the doors open at precisely 2:03, looking like he might have run through the entire building to get there.

“Hey!” he waves, his whole body twitching with excitement.

Luke laughs at his exuberance, “Hey, yourself! I take it things went well today?”

“As a matter of fact, they did. I think I’m making real progress with Agent Lawrence.” He gets a bashful look and he can’t quite make eye contact, “But mostly I was excited to see you.”

“Okay,” Luke rubs his face as he processes the intense emotion that statement brings. “Let’s get away from here before I do something embarrassing like kiss you in front of the security cameras.”

Spencer giggles and follows him down the walking path toward the road. “Did you drive here or are we walking?”

“We’re taking the train, if you don’t mind.”

“That is actually my preferred mode of transportation! While I do drive, I find public transportation far less stressful, and there’s something reassuringly grounding about being on a track. Where are we going?”

“DC.” Luke looks around and, determining they are far enough away from work to no longer need to keep things professional, holds out his hand. Spencer blushes before accepting it, and his hand is warm and soft in Luke’s grasp. “Is it okay if I get you home late tonight?”

Spencer looks thoughtful, “I have my mom taken care of through tomorrow afternoon. Why?”

“I have a lot planned. Is midnight too late a curfew?”

“That- no. I- Yes, that would be fine,” he stammers out, nodding to be sure his point comes across.

Luke stops, holding him back by their joined hands, and just looks at him. “Can I tell you how cute you are?”

Spencer closes his eyes and shakes his head before laughing. Luke doesn’t want to embarrass his _very cute_ date further, so he just pulls him along to the station. Their timing is lucky and a train comes without much wait. They even find seats, but at the next stop the train fills up and Spencer immediately gives up his seat to the first person who comes near. Luke follows, and they hang onto the same bar. When the train starts, they bump into each other. They bump again once the train hits a curve, and twice more before Luke wraps an arm around Spencer and holds him close so they sway as one with the movement of the car. 

They get off at the Capitol Museum stop, so their first destination isn’t exactly a surprise. Luke explains, “I got us tickets to the Modern Art exhibit.”

“You like modern art?”

“Yeah,” Luke responds because he’s fairly confident he will. Except he kind of doesn’t. It’s a lot of geometric shapes and squiggles. A weird amount of squiggles. He follows Spencer from painting to painting trying to figure out how to appreciate the bland yet bold colors. Spencer put a lot of effort into making their first date absolutely perfect for Luke, so Luke is going to stare at art for Spencer, even if it makes his eyes cross to concentrate. He’s pretty sure rows of soup cans had more meaning than these things.

They both cock their heads at a white canvas with a dark blue swirl.

“It’s called Forlorn,” Spencer reads in his Solving A Puzzle voice.

“What confuses me, is why would you want to even evoke that emotion? And how do they think this does that?”

Spencer nods slowly. “Maybe this painting is broken.” He looks serious for a moment before smiling.

“I think a lot of these are.”

“I thought you said you like modern art.”

“I guessed!” Luke throws up his arms. “I guessed wrong! I thought _you’d_ like modern art.”

“I…” Spencer shakes his head, “No… There is other art here. _Actual_ art.”

Luke grasps his hand, “Please lead the way.” As soon as they leave the exhibit, Luke is captivated by a painting of men on horseback at war. “Now this is something. This I feel.”

Spencer peaks at the plaque. “Armande Bisset lived during the 30 Year War, and it greatly influenced his art. It’s considered one of the bloodiest periods of history. The violence, ensuing famine, and consequential spread of disease lead to a body count estimated at 8 million.”

“Yeah, but the horses are pretty,” Luke quips, earning him a chuckle. “Oh, hey! That guy kind of looks like you!” He parks in front of a portrait of a man with a narrow nose, high cheekbones, and curly brown hair.

Spencer crosses his arms over his chest, “Carlos de Montillas was the product of five generations of inbreeding.”

“Dude looked good for being his own cousin.” Luke freezes to see how his joke will land, and when Spencer snorts, he’s immensely proud.

Spencer leads him to a favorite painting of his, because he’s of course visited this museum enough to have a favorite piece, and it’s of a woman attempting to pull a stubborn cow. “This is the only piece by an otherwise unknown artist. She just signed it as Beverley.”

“Okay, why is this your favorite?”

“I think it’s just because it’s funny.” He gives Luke a meaningful look, “I like that it makes me laugh.”

They continue to look at _real art_ for a while until Luke asks, “Do you like French food?”

“Yes.”

“Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t even have to think, “Yes.”

“Good. We have reservations at LaTache. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” Spencer says a third time, and hand-in-hand they walk the block and a half to the restaurant. They’re seated in the window, where they can watch people stroll by, but they have eyes only for each other. 

Their waiter pours sparkling water into their glasses before asking for their order.

“I’ll have the beef bourguignon,” Spencer hands his menu over, “with a glass of the house burgundy.”

Luke sucks on his lip before attempting, “And I’ll have the duck con…”

“The duck confit,” the waiter finishes for him in a perfect accent.

“Yep,” Luke nods, “and a glass of whatever you think goes with that.”

“Right away, Sirs,” the waiter shoots off to the kitchen.

Luke frowns seriously, “Do you think French is intentionally difficult just so it can feel superior to the other languages?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Spencer nods emphatically with a laugh.

Their food and wine accompaniments come quickly. Luke stares at his food, and it looks like a drumstick he’d typically pick up with his hands, but this place has cloth napkins and soft lighting so he’s quite certain that behavior won’t fly here. These are the types of people who’d eat chicken nuggets with a fork and knife, except they’d never eat chicken nuggets, and he’s maybe never going to eat duck con...whatever again. Fork and knife. He can apply those utensils. It’s not difficult to poke a piece and bring it to his mouth- All thought stops once the morsel touches his tongue. It’s delicious. It’s the most perfect food he’s ever experienced. He’s moaning and he has to cut that out because again with the cloth napkins.

“You need to try this!” Luke says a little too loudly. “Here, I have another fork.” He uses the smaller fork to hook a piece and holds it out to Spencer. Spencer leans forward, wrapping his lips around the offering and pulling back. His eyes go wide and he nods emphatically as he chews. “How’s yours?”

“Excellent.” Spencer dips his own spoon into his stew and holds it out for Luke.

“Yeah?” Luke checks because Spencer is famous for his ‘germ thing’ and that goes double for what he considers to be group food, but Spencer nods and Luke accepts the spoonful. He moans again; it can’t be helped. “This is so good. I’ve never been to a restaurant with a Michelin Star before.”

“Neither have I,” Spencer nods before indulging in more beef bourguignon.

“Really?” Luke asks in surprise. “I just assumed, you know, _fancy tie, fancy guy_.”

“What?” Spencer laughs, touching the strip of silk draped down his front. “I guess I do kind of look like that, but no. Growing up, dinner tended to come out of a box, and since college my kind of restaurant has been _open late_.”

Luke grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. First with the modern art, now this. “It’s important to make these kinds of mistakes early on so I really fail the first impression.”

“Luke, I’ve known you for over a year,” Spencer says softly and Luke winces, hearing it as an admonishment for how little he’s learned about him in that time, but then Spencer continues. “Your first impression was cemented long ago. You were considerate. You knew about my reticence to shake hands and you respected it.”

Luke nods, remembering the interaction. He didn’t think his words mattered much at the time, but thankfully they did. He also remembers how immediately he became attracted to the doctor, and it’s pure vanity at this point, but he wants to see if he had a similar effect on Spencer. “You thought I was considerate, huh? What else did you think of me?” Spencer looks thoughtful for a second, then blushes. Bingo. Luke smirks smugly, “You thought I was hot.”

Spencer stares at the tablecloth, not answering. 

“You did!” Luke teases.

Without looking up, Spencer commands sharply, “Eat your duck con.”

They each have individual crème brûlées for dessert, which Spencer can only eat half of before his hands go to his stomach in defeat. Luke should quit as well, but he powers through even though he knows he’ll regret it later. It’s just so good. They walk from there slowly, resisting the urge to waddle, until Luke offers to hail a cab.

“Actually, walking promotes digestion.”

Luke steps out into the road, arm raised, “Yeah, but it’s almost two miles away and my tummy hurts.” The first yellow vehicle with its lights on pulls over for them. “8473 Park Avenue,” Luke gives just the address, hoping to keep their destination a surprise for a bit longer.

“The planetarium?” Spencer bounces with excitement in the seat next to him, and of course the man who memorizes maps would know the address to the planetarium, and Luke is kind of an idiot for not realizing that.

“No, we’re going to be next to the planetarium. We’re just going to see the outside of it, _maybe_ look in the gift shop…”

Spencer’s expression says he is patiently waiting for Luke to finish this attempt at a joke. When it’s clearly over, he’s smiling again, “They have a show about Venus that combines the mythology with the astronomy. I saw a bootlegged version online, but it can’t do justice to the real thing.”

“You...saw a bootlegged planetarium show?”

“Garcia found it for me.”

Once Luke pays the planetarium entrance fees, he takes Spencer to the customer service desk and hands the young woman working there a slip of paper from his pocket. She reads it while typing into her computer and the screen behind her lights up with an image of the night sky. She clicks on one of the tiny bright blue dots and its name appears: Dr. Spencer Reid.

Spencer looks at it in surprise for a second before his jaw drops. He stares in amazement at Luke, “Did you name a star after me?”

Luke grins, knowing it’s cheesy and owning it. “Yeah, I even gave it your degrees.”

“This is amazing!” His hands fly up in excitement and he bounces a bit. “Can you-” he checks the employee's name badge before starting again, “Chelsea, could you zoom out and show me where that star is in relation to a nearby constellation?”

“Sure thing,” she smiles and taps away at her keyboard. The image zooms out, way out, in appreciation of the vastness of the universe, and once it shows his star’s relation to Sagittarius the flash bulb goes off in Spencer’s mind as he commits the star chart to memory. 

Another idea pops into Spencer’s head, “Could you go back and see if there are any unnamed stars in that vicinity?”

She zooms back in, centering the screen around _his_ star, and highlights one nearby. “How’s this?”

“Perfect! Can I have it named here?”

“You certainly can. You can also donate to our after school programming,” she wisely takes advantage of his enthusiasm. “What’s the name?” She sees Spencer’s eyes dart to Luke and immediately catches on, swept up in the sweet romance, “Aww, so you can twinkle at each other for eternity!”

Spencer bites his lip and casts a nervous look at Luke through his lashes. Eternity is quite the commitment to throw at someone, even if it’s just for stars. 

Luke throws his arm around Spencer’s waist, “Oh, let’s definitely twinkle at each other.” He turns to Chelsea, “The name is Luke Alvez, A-L-V-E-Z. Yes, perfect. Twinkle twinkle, Spencer.”

Spencer pays, including that donation, and Chelsea hands them a printout of their stars shining together and instructions on how to find them online. They thank her and are both kind of giddy over it.

“We have stars,” Spencer muses before slipping the printout carefully into his satchel. “I’ve thought about doing that for years. Thank you.”

They look at the exhibits on the history of space exploration and the advances in astronomical technology before going into the theater to watch the special on Venus. Spencer insists it’s much better in person. They stay there, laid back in their planetarium seats staring up at an image of the galaxy taken by some high-powered telescope, and Spencer rests his head against Luke’s shoulder, “You sure know how to show a geek a good time.”

Luke laughs, leaning his cheek into Spencer’s hair. “Twinkle twinkle.”

They catch a late train back to Virginia, and in the mostly empty car they take their seats, Luke leaning against the window and Spencer hunched by the aisle. The busy day and swaying train lull Spencer and he finds himself resting against Luke, eyes heavy. “Falling asleep,” he mumbles, trying to rouse himself.

“Don’t worry.” Luke’s voice is fully alert. “I’ll get you home.”

Spencer hums happily, and then he’s out. Luke wakes him before his stop, helps him stand, and guides him with an arm around his waist out of the station. It’s dark, nearly midnight, the air is chilled and they huddle together down the sidewalk.

Blessed with a sudden bout of wakefulness, Spencer darts over to a phone pole, tugging Luke along by the arm. He points to a flier sloppily stapled there, “The Korean Horror Movie Night at the Flick Shack!”

“You like horror movies?”

“I’ve been trying to get someone to go with me to this for _years_!”

“Well, I would love to take you,” Luke offers sincerely despite never in his life seeing a Korean film.

Spencer beams, bouncing on his toes. “It’s this Thursday. It starts at 7 PM with three movies, back to back.”

“It’s a date.”

Spencer gives him _that_ smile, crinkled eyes and tongue to his teeth and giggling. Luke wraps him up again in the warmth of his arms. 

They reach Spencer’s building, climb the stairs to his floor, and Spencer steps back against the wall and pulls Luke to him. His arms go around Luke’s neck and he kisses him like he’s been waiting all night to do so. 

“Thank you,” Spencer says breathlessly, then captures his lips in another kiss. “This was one of the best days of my life. Being with you is…” he expresses himself with another kiss, adding pressure and a depth of emotion. 

Kissed a bit silly, Luke finds himself too dazed to respond with anything more than a smile.

“I did think you were hot,” Spencer whispers his confession into Luke’s ear, warm breath tickling the skin there. “When I met you, that was my first impression.” He kisses him again, slips against him and mingles their breaths. Luke clings to him, fuses to him.

Spencer pulls back, presses their foreheads together as he catches his breath. Then, a little louder, he says, “Good night, Luke.”

“Yeah,” Luke steps back to let Spencer move. He laughs at how debauched he feels in the common area of Spencer’s building, and sees the mess he’s made of Spencer’s hair. “Good night.” He watches Spencer make it safely into his apartment, and then in a bit of a dreamstate he catches a cab home, already looking forward to Thursday.


	11. Jump Scares

When Luke goes to pick Spencer up for their movie date on Thursday, he finds him standing on the sidewalk in front of his building. Luke greets him when he’s close enough to do so quietly, “Hey, there, you enjoying the sunshine?”

Spencer was deep in thought and has to make great effort to emerge. “Hmm? Oh, hi! You’re here!” He leans in and wraps Luke in a hug.

“Everything okay?” Luke tries to keep his tone light, not wanting to make things awkward if he doesn’t have to, but something seems off and his profiler radar is pinging.

Spencer grabs his hand and says, “Yes,” with such confidence that Luke sets the worry aside and just lets himself be led down the block.

The Flick Shack is a small sloped-floor theater that smells perpetually of stale popcorn. It has a single screen, old speakers that pop, and a cult following that keeps it in business. Spencer is a member of that cult. The ticket-taker knows him by name and the girl working concessions gives him a discount on Luke’s popcorn and his bag of Skittles. It’s a popular showing, this Korean horror marathon, but they find seats near the back corner that offer a modicum of privacy when the house lights dim.

“You know why horror movies make great dates?” Luke leans in and whispers as a commercial for soda plays.

Spencer turns his face into Luke’s, eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Jump scares,” he explains with mock solemnity. “They’ll have you right in my arms.”

“I’m an FBI agent, and you think I’m going to _swoon_?”

“I’m saying the potential is there, and I look forward to it.”

The first movie is scary. Luke came prepared for horror, but even without understanding the dialogue he’s on the edge of his seat and rigid with fear of what he’s about to be visually subjected to. This isn’t like hunting criminals at all. Even serial killers have become necessarily predictable, and they comfortably obey the laws of physics, so when the demonic creature on the imposingly large screen is shown stalking his unknowing victim from the _ceiling_ , Luke’s face tucks itself into the safety of Spencer’s shoulder. He should be embarrassed, but then Spencer’s fingers are gently threading through his hair, and he just lets himself be comforted. The fingers leave, and he looks up to see the scene has ended. The characters are back in the daylight.

“Thanks,” Luke whispers, ready to be teased. Instead, Spencer just gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

A few minutes later, the characters are making their way into a basement, and those agile fingers return to Luke’s hair. He takes the hint, hiding his face as screams fill the theater. Then the fingers leave and it’s again safe to look. The system is perfect.

When the first ending credits roll, Spencer turns to him and asks, still in a hushed voice, “How are you doing?”

“Scary movies are scary,” Luke smiles.

“Have you not seen a horror movie before?”

“I’ve seen the classics: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Psycho, Jaws. Nothing like this.”

“They’re different,” Spencer concurs. “Do you want to leave?”

“No!” He’s emphatic so it comes out too loud, and he says it again in their polite hushed volume, “No. You’ve wanted to do this for how long? No. I’m fine. Besides, you keep doing that to my hair, and I’ll go anywhere with you.”

Spencer flushes hot and bright at that, turning away with his lip between his teeth. Luke almost feels bad for doing that to him, but then Spencer turns back and the look in his eyes is so tender Luke can’t regret anything. “I, umm. I’ve seen all of these. I know when the scary parts are and I can, umm,” he breaks eye contact, “distract you.”

Luke’s charmed by the gesture, “Yeah, it’s been working great. Thanks.”

The next movie starts and Luke tosses a couple pieces of his mostly-forgotten popcorn into his mouth. He allows himself to pay enough attention to read the captioning at the bottom of the screen, trusting nothing will jump out at him without Spencer warning him first.

Those fingers arrive and Luke obediently ducks into Spencer’s shoulder, but then that shoulder bumps him. He looks up in confusion, and suddenly Spencer is kissing him. It’s languid and warm and consuming and Luke turns himself over to the slip of their lips. Then they’re gone and Spencer is whispering, “It’s over.”

Luke blinks, forgetting where he is until the theater rematerializes around him and he shakes himself, “Right.”

He’s ready for the next kiss, leaning in and swiping his tongue along Spencer’s bottom lip. Spencer gasps, his lips parting, and Luke dives in. He tastes like fruit candy and Luke wants more, kisses deeper, sliding his tongue along Spencer’s. He can’t contain a moan. Remembering his surroundings, Luke jolts backward, “Sorry. Sorry, I’m going to get you kicked out of your theater.”

“That...that would be… unfortunate,” Spencer pants out.

Luke turns in time to see a character get ripped in half. He’s brought that one on himself. When Spencer’s fingers return, he keeps their kiss chaste, only pulling slightly on that bottom lip when he detects a hint of strawberry.

Next time, it’s Spencer who leans in heavier, sliding his tongue along the seam of Luke’s mouth. It’s tentative, and he pulls back until it’s just lips against each other again, but it thrills Luke that Spencer wants to explore him. Luke hooks his elbow over the armrest and rests his warm hand over Spencer’s thigh. Spencer brushes it with his knuckles, welcoming the touch.

They kiss again at the next murder scene, and the results are perversely Pavlovian, getting Luke excited anytime someone is in peril. He has a funny thought about how this could be his serial killer trigger but it’s instantly drowned out by another kiss.

When the credits roll Spencer turns to him, absolutely flummoxed, “I’ve never made out in a movie theater before. I’ve never _kissed_ in a theater. What have you done to me?”

“ _You_ kissed _me_ , remember?” Luke laughs, not really defending himself.

He shakes his head, “I still blame you.”

With a smug grin, Luke waggles his eyebrows, “I’m irresistible.” 

Spencer shuts his eyes tight before nodding and Luke is over the moon and back before the last movie starts. The last one is the goriest and they miss most of it, consumed in themselves. During one of their kisses, Spencer tilts his lips away and touches their foreheads together. His mouth hangs open, blowing fruity puffs of breath into Luke’s face, and his eyes are closed in concentration, soaking in their closeness. Luke softly caresses his face, hears him huff a happy laugh before planting a sweet kiss against Luke’s lips. It’s such pure fondness on display and it’s the moment Luke cherishes the most of the night.

They kiss through three more death scenes, and then the house lights come on. They look at each other, feeling a bit silly with kiss-flushed lips, having publicly made out like teenagers for the better part of an evening.

“Sorry,” Luke rubs the back of his neck. “I think you missed most of your movies.”

The laugh jumps out of Spencer, “What? Luke, if you think any moment of tonight wasn’t a literal dream come true…” He sighs, “This was perfect. Provided we aren’t banned from the premises.” 

Luke looks around at the patrons filing out, paying them no mind, “I think we’re good.” He turns back to see Spencer staring at him with open amazement, like Luke is the answer to something that has puzzled him his whole life. Luke cups his cheek, “Keep looking at me like that, though, and I will _get us banned_.”

Spencer giggles and for once when his cheeks redden he doesn’t look away, “I want to see you again.”

“Well, _yeah_.” Luke needs Spencer to realize he’s equally as invested.

“When? When can I see you again?”

Luke shrugs and reminds him, “We work around your schedule.”

“Tomorrow? Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Absolutely. What did you want to do?”

“Can we just stay at your place again? We haven’t seen Doctor Who in a while, and I was thinking, we could maybe…” He chews on his lip.

Luke’s eyebrows raise, intrigued, “Doctor Reid, are you suggesting Netflix and Chill?”

Spencer turns away, swallowing dramatically. “I was suggesting Amazon Prime and Pasta.”

Luke nods with a grin, totally cool with that code, “Amazon Prime and Pasta, it is. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Spencer agrees, then sighs, “I should get home.”

“Of course,” Luke rises and offers his date his hand, and they walk with fingers entwined into the cold night.

As they near his block, Spencer asks, “Where did you park?”

“Oh, I took the train.”

“I’ll walk you to the station.”

“I can walk you home,” Luke offers, since that was his plan.

“The station is only a block from home,” Spencer counters in a voice that doesn’t invite argument.

Luke sends him a concerned glance, but he keeps his voice light, “Okay, thank you.”

Spencer worries his lip, stops, and looks up at Luke, chagrinned. “I’m sorry, that was… brusque.”

Luke thinks a moment how to word this, and decides not to beat around the bush, “I know I asked you this already, but is everything okay?”

His sigh is shaky, “Most things are okay. Other things are...adjusting. Things are good with us! I think…”

“Yes, very good,” Luke assures.

Spencer smiles and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “I’m figuring the rest out. It’s okay.”

“You know,” Luke gives his hand a squeeze, “I’m here for you, if you need, for more than just movies and french food.”

Spencer contemplates that, and then Luke loses him to his thoughts so he gives a little tug and takes them to the station. They descend the stairs and Spencer comes back with a warm smile, “Thank you so much for tonight. It was amazing.”

“I can’t wait for tomorrow.” They block the turnstile with a lingering goodnight kiss, each trying to stave off parting for just another second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, for all the kudos! I was far too excited to get to 69, and bless the person who put me at 70 so I could stop giggling like an idiot.


	12. Amazon Prime and Pasta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A peak into the mind of Dr. Spencer Reid, because the dude is just angsty.

Spencer clutches his satchel tight against his body as he waits for Luke to answer the door. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s warmly welcomed into his home, he always fears rejection. Maybe Luke forgot their plans and isn’t home, or worse, has company. Maybe he changed his mind, wants to be alone or just lost interest. Maybe Spencer is about to be blindfolded and left naked tied to a goalpost. Okay, he’s not fearing anything quite so dark, but his memory does an excellent job of conjuring evidence for his insecurities.

Luke opens the door, smile warm and inviting. He’s wearing an unblemished apron over a new shirt and familiar jeans, his socked feet planted firm and confident to the hardwood. His hair is still wet from a shower, the smell of his body wash faintly clinging to the air. “Come on in!”

“Thank you,” Spencer reaches into the canister as he hears Roxy approach. He’s still earning her approval with each visit, assisted by these biscuits. He gets in a few good scratches before she takes her snack into the kitchen. Spencer slides out of his shoes and deposits his satchel by the door, holding up a grocery bag, “I brought food, but judging by your attire I assume you’re already cooking?”

“Oh, yeah, I got one of those meal kits. Even I can’t mess that up. We can toss your stuff in the fridge and save it for the next Amazon Prime and Pasta night.”

The promise of another date sends a warm tingle through Spencer’s core and he savors the sensation. So far, tonight won’t be their last. He might find it in him to relax. 

He follows into the kitchen and slides the whole grocery bag onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. It helps that Luke keeps few perishables. He’s more of a protein shake guy than a bacon and eggs guy. “Can I help with anything?”

“Nah, I’m mostly done,” Luke indicates the ingredients chopped up in the saucepan, ready to be simmered. “I’ll finish up in here and you can make yourself at home.” That offer would require many bookshelves.

Spencer gets himself out of the way and into the living room. Roxy’s there, wagging on the couch, and Spencer slides his fingers through her soft coat. She’s his first canine friend, and as with any relationship, Spencer is hyper-aware of its fragility. His pets are gentle, careful, and reserved only to the regions she’s already given him permission to touch. “Good girl, Roxy,” he says because it makes her happy, which makes him happy. 

He’s been in this home before, but things look different once you’ve recategorized a friend as...more. There is a moratorium on inner-team profiling, but being a profiler is less a career and more an identity, so the analysis comes to Spencer naturally. He’s already informed that Luke only moved in once beginning at the Bureau a year ago, but the freshness of the paint, unmarred by the chips and smudges of continued life, confirms this. The furniture is new, matching sets in the living room and bedroom, possibly ordered through a catalogue though more likely selected right off a showroom floor. It’s as if Luke simply walked into a home furnishings store, pointed to a couple displays, planted the furniture and sprouted a new life. Spencer marvels at how easily Luke adapts to the new, and wonders at the ease with which he abandons the old. For someone used to the excitement of world travel and fugitive hunting, at what point does something become old? How exciting must someone be to hold his attention?

Spencer turns his attention to a cabinet with photographs displayed prominently atop. In the first one, Luke is a few years younger, though equally as handsome. His happy smile is the same one that’s made Spencer’s heart rate increase and his cheeks flush. He’s surrounded by other smiling people and they’re all wearing fatigues: his Army unit. The strength it must take to find joy while surrounded by the horrors of war… There’s a picture of Luke with Roxy because the importance of their bond deserves to be commemorated. The next one has Luke with two women, both older though one significantly so, and a man; his parents and grandmother, Spencer surmises. The final one is of a teenaged Luke with a girl around his age with similar features.

“You got a warrant there, snoop?” 

Spencer blushes at being caught, but there’s a lightness to Luke’s tone that lets him know he’s not actually in trouble. He points to the last photo, “Is that your sister?”

“Cousin, actually. Analise. She’s like a sister, though. But pushier.” He smiles and Spencer laughs because it’s obviously meant to be funny.

Luke is standing in the archway separating the kitchen, still in that apron, holding a wooden spoon stained red with tomato juices. The aroma of Italian herbs wafts off of him. It’s the image Spencer will recall when he hears the oft-used term ‘domestic bliss.’ “You look good in an apron.”

“You say that because you want food,” Luke jabs that wooden spoon accusingly. 

“It’s an important component to Amazon Prime and Pasta.”

“Well, turn on the TV and you can get the other half.”

“I wouldn’t start without you.” The idea of Luke not being a part of this evening leaves a cold emptiness in his gut, which is irrational since he’s in the man’s home. Feelings are so often irrational.

“Then, happy snooping,” he quips, heading back into the kitchen. “I’ll be done soon.”

There isn’t much more to snoop. Luke clearly packs light when transitioning between the old and new. There isn’t any art on the walls, no chotchkies or knick knacks on surfaces, no clutter labeled “Insights Into My Life” lying around. There are books in a bookcase, something Spencer understands well, and though most are psychology books to prepare him for their job, there are a few military history texts and, to Spencer’s amusement, a few more paperback romance novels. He thumbs through one, finishing it in a few short minutes, and wonders if Luke would recognize quotes from it about glistening abs or wanton thrusts. 

Spencer slaps at his leg, staring around the room as his limbs get jittery. He needs to breathe. He’s hot and nervous and he needs. to. breathe. Sure, tonight could be a disaster and ruin everything and they might never be able to work together and the team dynamic might forever be destroyed because of him, but they might also both be hit by a bus tomorrow, so he should focus on the positive. Be in the moment. Live laugh love, or some other advice found on a poster. 

The last time Spencer felt like this was with Maeve. It’s a good feeling, lined with soft hope and warm caring, but feelings can’t prevent tragedy. He lost his first love to a bullet in the brain, watched her die in front of him. Whatever he has with Luke is amazing, feels every bit as good as what he had with Maeve, so Spencer wonders how the universe will disappoint him this time.

“Are you okay?” Luke asks from that archway and Spencer wonders how long he’s been watching him.

“I’m all snooped out.”

“What’s the verdict?”

Verdicts occur at the end of trials, and this was the evidence-gathering phase, but he doesn’t say that. “It turns out you live here.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to have to leave.” Spencer hopes that’s true.

“Do you have wine to go with the pasta?” A sedative could be very useful right now, as his fingers tap vigorously against his thigh.

“Yeah, actually. I mentioned to Rossi once I like Chianti and he loaded me up.” Luke ducks back into his kitchen and Spencer hears him pull a cork and pour into two glasses. He comes back out and hands one to Spencer, then pauses to cheer their glasses together.

Spencer takes a sip, convincing himself its effects are instantaneous, then sets his glass down. “Can I kiss you?”

Luke recovers quickly from his surprise, setting his glass next to Spencer’s. He’s halfway through, “Absolutely,” when Spencer presses into him, mouth eager and fingers gripping his hair. Luke’s hands rise, gently holding Spencer’s head and caressing his jaw.

Just like that, everything is okay. Airway slightly obstructed, Spencer can finally breathe. He nuzzles Luke’s cheek with his nose, “Now I’m okay.”

Luke grips him in a tight embrace, pressed chest to chest. “I’m happy to be here for you.” There’s meaning behind those words, more than just ‘I’m glad we’re kissing,’ and Spencer understands what’s being offered: a sympathetic ear. It’s what friends are for, but listening to the worries of another is not attractive. It would be a step backward in whatever they have.

“I’m happy you’re here, too. Otherwise this would be considered breaking and entering.”

“Then you could really get your snoop on.”

“How much can I kiss you before the food burns?”

Luke murmurs, “Only the timer knows,” against his lips before they’re kissing again, and it’s like Spencer’s mind can be quieted by the simple press of Luke’s lips. Everything is fine. Luke wants him here. Luke likes him. Luke  _ likes _ him. Luke is Army-trained and very unlikely to be kidnapped by a serial killer. Luke is holding him close like he’s precious and brushing gentle kisses across his cheeks. Spencer’s breath hitches at that. “You’re gorgeous,” Luke whispers to him.

Spencer claims his lips in another kiss, pressing hard because his emotional response to those words needs somewhere to  _ go _ . 

“So gorgeous,” Luke repeats, clearly liking the response.

Spencer tangles his fingers into the back of Luke’s shirt and moves his mouth lower, grazing his teeth along his throat before soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue.

“Whoa!” Luke jolts against him, “Hey.”

Spencer stops, burying his face in Luke’s chest, “Too much, sorry.”

Luke smooths a hand down Spencer’s spine and laughs. “No, just...whoa. Not too much. I don’t mind burnt pasta if you don’t.” The timer sounds and Luke kisses his hair, “Are you hungry?”

Spencer pulls back and he knows his face is red but there’s nothing he can do about that. He nods and they detach, Luke retreating to the kitchen once more. Spencer scrubs his fingers down his face, feeling jittery again at the separation. He distracts himself with another book, this one on the Civil War.

Luke emerges with two plates in hand and sets them on the coffee table. “Oh, Roxy, we’re gonna sit there. Go find your bed.” The dog somehow understands and trots off, unoffended. 

Spencer joins his date with their wine glasses, and they sit on the couch with the TV playing Doctor Who, starting from where they left off. The pasta is delicious, though when Spencer compliments it Luke reminds him it came from a box. They finish their glasses of wine and Luke refills them, emptying the bottle between them. Spencer is already feeling the alcohol’s effects, so he slows down his sips. He slips his hand into Luke’s, drawing circles in Luke’s wrist with his thumb. 

Luke wraps his arm around Spencer’s waist and pulls him closer, until Spencer is sitting on the divide between the two cushions, and then he pushes his shoulder and Spencer twists back, lying against the armrest, and Luke leans over him. It’s a small couch, so it’s a bit awkward, but it’s also tantalizingly horizontal. Luke kisses him again, gently, like each press of his lips means sweet words of endearment, and Spencer shifts beneath him, up into him, wanting to feel his warmth. Luke slides his fingers down Spencer’s jaw, along his neck, and Spencer shivers at the soft touch. Then the fingers linger where neck meets shoulder, and the touch becomes prodding. 

Spencer remembers there’s an obvious scar there, “Bullet wound. Three and a half years ago.”

“You got shot in the neck?” Luke pulls back, brows furrowed in something between shock and horror.

“And the knee,” Spencer supplies unhelpfully. 

“I haven’t been shot once.”

“Chasing serial killers is dangerous.”

“I was a bounty hunter! And an Army Ranger!” His fingers move over the scar like he’s trying to soothe a long-healed ache. “Are you a badass?”

Spencer’s face immediately twists in disbelief, but then he ponders a moment, “Well, I did get shot both times saving someone’s life…”

Luke slowly nods. “Doctor Badass.”

Spencer laughs, and then they’re kissing again, Luke’s hands leaving the scar to travel further down, grazing his collarbone. Spencer rubs up and down Luke’s back, pulling at his shoulders for more contact, “Couch is too small.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Luke laments, but then he looks in Spencer’s eyes and starts to realize a hint has been dropped.

Spencer goes for broke, reaching for the remote and powering off the TV. Their gazes lock and Spencer strokes the back of Luke’s arm. Luke hops up, lifting Spencer to his feet. He holds his jaw while he kisses him, walking backwards to the bedroom, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have things covered with your mom?”

“Please don’t bring her up right now,” Spencer groans, eyes shut tight as he fights back the image of her in the room with them. “But yes.”

“You can stay?”

“I can stay.”

Luke moans, kissing him with hunger, “Want you.” Spencer gasps at that, matching his passion. They reach the bed and stand next to it. Luke whispers against his lips, “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have me,” Luke wraps his arms around Spencer’s waist, fingers dancing at the small of his back. “What do you want?”

Spencer can't help the words that come next. “I want to taste the sweat dripping down your glistening abs.”

Luke rears back with a snort, then something slots into place in his memory, “Oh, no…”

Spencer leans into his ear and recites dramatically, “I want your wanton thrusts to fill me with so much pleasure I scream your name to the heavens above.”

Luke’s shoulders shake with laughter and he tucks his heated face into the crook of Spencer’s neck, “You read one of those books, did ya?”

“It was called  _ Rocky Splendor _ ! Of course I read it.” He wraps his arms around Luke comfortingly, wanting his teasing to be playful, not cruel. 

Luke pulls out of his hold and crashes backwards into his bed, and a tug on Spencer’s wrist brings him down next to him. Spencer moves in immediately, sliding his tongue along Luke’s lip and into his mouth, making Luke jolt and gasp. Luke’s hand lays flat against Spencer’s chest, and when Spencer slows down, that hand glides up to hold his cheek adoringly. Luke meets his eyes, softly panting until he can catch his breath. “I… I want you to know how happy you make me. I think about you  _ all the time,  _ and I just want to be around you. I want to keep going places with you, keep staying in with you. I want this. I want  _ you _ .”

Spencer is struck silent, feeling full enough to burst. He can’t breathe because his lungs have no room, can’t speak around the lump of emotion in his throat, but he needs to say something, so he’s able to get out, “Me too.”

Luke smiles, tracing his thumb along Spencer’s cheek bone.

Spencer swallows hard, his face twitching with nerves. He needs a few deep breaths before he can find his voice, “I want you there for the rest of my happy moments, and I want you to know I’ll be there for your sad moments. I care about you  _ so much _ .” A tear escapes and Luke quickly wipes it away. Luke draws him forward, sprinkling kisses across his face and Spencer revels in the adoration.

They kiss again,  _ stoking the embers of their passion _ , their grips becoming needy. Luke mouths at Spencer’s neck, tongue seeking that scar, and then he pulls the marred flesh into his mouth with a suck, leaving a bruise. Spencer gasps, arching back to give him more access. Luke mumbles into his skin, “Wanna make you feel good.”

Spencer nods, breathless. Then, he gets in his final quote, “And then I’m going to hold you until the golden sun kisses your chiseled features.”

“I’m gonna hide those books…”

It’s still dark when Spencer awakens, Luke spooned in his arms, skin to skin. He breathes him in, pressing a grateful kiss behind his ear. Luke stirs and Spencer kisses his shoulder, this one meant to soothe. Luke spins in his embrace, seeking his lips without opening his eyes. They kiss lazily, half asleep, then Luke cuddles his face into Spencer’s chest and falls back into dreamland. Spencer squeezes, holding him ever closer, and then follows.

The next time Spencer wakes, it’s to Luke softly stroking his hair. “Good morning, Sleepy Head.”

Spencer hums in response, stretching into the touch. He opens his eyes and throws out his lower lip in a pout, “You’re dressed.”

“Yeah,” Luke laughs, “the neighborhood frowns on naked dog-walking.”

“Puritans,” Spencer grumbles, gripping Luke’s shirt and tugging.

“It’s after 9:00! What, you want to sleep your Saturday away?”

Spencer sighs sadly, “I’ll have to go soon. Can we just...stay here for five minutes? And pretend that everything else doesn’t exist?”

“Of course,” Luke slides in next to him without further question. His clothes feel soft and cool against his skin, and Luke holds him with care and tender caresses. Their world gets to be just the two of them, even if only for five more minutes.


	13. Sand In Your Sweater Vest

Luke waits until he’s about to go to bed the next night before texting Spencer.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ My bed looks better with you in it. _

It carries a variety of potential meanings: that he misses him, that Spencer is invited over if available, that he’s casually flirting with him, even that he’s simply reaching out after their first night together because that’s what couples do. He means every one. He mostly means the invitation one. 

Spencer doesn’t respond. He still hasn’t texted back when Luke wakes up the next morning. Luke decides not to let that bother him. He goes through his routine, takes Roxy on a long run, finishes that book Spencer leant him, and even puts on a documentary he imagines Spencer would enjoy. He wasn’t kidding when he told Spencer he thinks about him all the time, and it makes it difficult to ignore the significant lack of the doctor now.

This is the first time since they’ve realized their feelings for each other that they don’t have plans to meet again. It’s not like they planned to  _ not _ meet again. Luke certainly didn’t. He has no reason to believe Spencer doesn’t want to see him anymore...except for the whole not texting him back thing.

Luke starts to wonder if he did something wrong. Surely if Spencer had regrets, he would have voiced them the morning after. He didn’t do that. He seemed just as happy to be there as Luke was to have him there. 

Maybe Spencer missed his text. He sends another one, this time with a picture of Roxy attached.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ Roxy misses you. _

After an hour of no reply, he sends a follow-up.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _  
_ _ I miss you, too. _

Is it needy? Maybe. Luke has to accept that he’s perhaps a little needy. When this goes unanswered, he comforts himself with the thought that Spencer just lost his phone. Spencer is notoriously unfond of technology. Except, he’s a responsible adult who’s only link to his friends and the world is a cell phone, so he wouldn’t just go on without one. 

He goes over every moment they’ve spent together since that brunch. Seeing Spencer ask him out for their first date, nervous even though Luke already confessed his feelings. Following Spencer’s clues around his neighborhood to the best first date he’ll ever have. Their first kiss right outside his apartment door. Watching his amazement during the planetarium show. Kissing in that dark movie theater. Taking him to bed. Luke smiles at every perfect moment, but then his mouth pulls down at the thought that something might not have been so perfect for Spencer, that, even with those profiler skills, he might have missed something important on those dates. There were those times, before and after the movie and when Luke walked into his living room to find Spencer lost in unpleasant thought, that Luke asked if Spencer was okay, knew something was off, but he let it go. Maybe there was more to those moments. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them go.

Luke finds himself bouncing one of Roxy’s tennis balls against the wall, a lonely game of catch when even the dog loses interest in him, and his phone finally announces a text. Luke grabs his phone and in his haste drops it below the couch. So help him if this turns out to be spam… He finally gets a good grip.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _  
_ _ Sorry cant talk, call you soo _

Huh. Huh. Well, it’s officially a text back. It’s a weird text back, especially for Spencer. The grammar is poor, he seems to have sent it before finishing the last word, and it’s kind of dismissive. He’s busy. He must be incredibly busy. Luke has been incredibly busy before, so he tells himself he understands, convinces himself to just let this go for now and be patient. No point over-analyzing now; that’s just how you get in those fights in your head where you’re already angry at things never said before you even see them again. 

He tosses the ball at the wall again and realizes he can’t stand to stay another minute in his apartment. Roxy gets to go on a second run and Luke stays out late nursing a Heineken at the Dog House, contemplating ordering a gin fizz.

He falls asleep that night cuddling a pillow.

Spencer doesn’t call soon, or ‘soo’ as he put it, so the next morning Luke decides to take drastic measures. He kneels in front of Roxy and takes her face in his hands, “Okay, Girl, your mission, if you choose to accept it, and you will accept it because you’re such a good girl. Yes, you are. Yes, yes!” Luke takes a moment to indulge in his dog’s gleeful expression and scratch her ears until she groans approvingly, then gets back to business. “Anyway, your mission is to look adorable so when we knock on Spencer’s door, he opens up. We don’t know what’s wrong, or if he wants to see me right now, but he can’t reject your gorgeous mug. Yes, you’re my emotional blackmail. Don’t judge me.” To Roxy’s credit, she doesn’t seem to judge him.

Miles separate their homes, so Luke opts to take his rarely-driven Subaru. Roxy stretches out in the ample back seat and Luke tosses in his go-bag because even though he doesn’t know what he’s preparing for, he knows how to be prepared. 

If this were about his bruised ego at not getting a hot date to return his call, he’d have let it go. Luke can move on from rejection. The thing is, Spencer is a considerate person. He wouldn’t ghost, wouldn’t blow someone off, especially not a friend and coworker. Which means that something is very wrong with Spencer right now, and now that Luke is doing something about it he can admit to himself that he’s worried. Very worried. 

He parks on the street and tries spying through Spencer’s large picture window on his walk across the street, but the curtains are drawn. He gives Roxy another quick pep talk when they reach the top of the stairs, “All right, Rox, look your cutest. It’s showtime.”

Before he knocks, he can hear Spencer’s voice from below the door, and he holds off. Maybe this isn’t a good time. But he came all the way here… Unannounced… As the angel and devil argue on his shoulders, he catches Spencer’s side of a conversation, presumably on the phone. “Yes, I understand… No, that shouldn’t be a problem… I’ve sent in the paperwork and I’m just waiting to hear back… Yes, I have… Yes, I know. These are extreme circumstances…”

At this point, Luke is just eavesdropping, so he knocks. Spencer’s conversation continues uninterrupted. 

“What’s most important right now is her care. I will handle this regardless, I just need time… Yes, and I thank you for that, sincerely, but while everything is processed, I just need confirmation… Thank you, yes. Yes, I will. I’m sure it will be soon… I have, yes. And I will. Thank you, again.” There’s a clatter as Spencer drops his phone to the hardwood floor. He sniffs harshly and Luke wonders if there are tears forming in those hazel eyes. He knocks again and this time he hears Spencer approach.

Spencer swings open the door and he looks frazzled. His hair is a mess, like he’s torn his hands through it so many times the strands no longer know which way to lay. He’s unshaven, hunched over like the weight of all his problems are hanging from his shoulders, and the circles under his eyes have darkened into black crescents. His suit is wrinkled, slept in, and his voice is barely above a whisper, “Luke?”

“I worried.”

Spencer steps aside and waves him in.

“I brought Roxy, if that makes-” 

As soon as the door is shut, Spencer shoves his face into Luke’s chest and  _ clings _ to him. Luke lets go of Roxy’s leash so he can properly hold him through whatever this is. Spencer’s small, “Thank you,” is muffled in Luke’s shirt.

Luke looks around. Spencer’s desk is covered in notes and forms, the laptop open and waiting. His cell phone is plugged into the wall, and he imagines Spencer tethered by that power cord as he spoke just a moment ago on that phone. The bedding has been stripped from the bed, and they’re alone. A horrible feeling chills his core, and as difficult as it will be for him to ask, it might be easier for Spencer if Luke brings it up first, so he bites that bullet. “Spencer, is this about your mom?” There’s a small nod into his chest and Luke squeezes tighter, “Oh, Spencer…”

Spencer pulls away and shakes his head, “She’s fine. She’s- She’s okay now. She, uh… She had an episode. She thought she was back with Lionel Wilkins and Lindsey Vaughn, that we were going to hurt her like they did…” He turns toward the bedroom, where the incident occurred, and he reveals four angry raised scratches down the side of his neck, from above his hairline snaking down below his collar. 

Luke’s fingers go automatically to the wounds, touching them gently, and Spencer hisses at the sudden sting. He apologizes while still inspecting. The skin broke in places but it looks clean. 

“She thought we were going to kill her,” Spencer explains and his voice is tight and wavering. “She thought she had to fight for her life…”

“Who else was here?”

“Angela, her nurse. She wasn’t hurt. I was able to…” he vaguely indicates to the scratches to finish his point. 

“I’m so sorry,” Luke pulls him back to him, holding him again. He walks them to the couch and sits them down, not letting him go. Spencer’s breathing is ragged but other than that he’s silent, frozen on an emotional precipice. Luke whispers into his hair, “I’m here.” Spencer pushes harder into him, fingers gripping with need in Luke’s shirt. “I’m here for you.”

“ _ Luke _ ,” Spencer starts to tremble against him.

“Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

He takes in a shaky breath before whining out, “Make insurance companies moral institutions!” like a petulant child. He pulls away, scrubbing his face, “I’m sorry. You’re being genuinely wonderful and I made light of it.”

“No! Joke, please. Humor is good.”

“It’s…” Spencer shakes his head in frustration. “I have her placed in a long-term care facility, but they’ll only hold her for 48 hours without authorization from her insurance company, and I’ve been calling but they are being  _ intentionally incompetant!”  _

Spencer’s phone rings and he leaps over the back of his couch like a fleeing gazelle to answer it. “Hello! Yes, this is Dr. Reid. ...Yes, I sent that- ...No, that was authorized- Yes, correct. ...You have? Wait, you have? ...Yes! Yes, that would be excellent! ...No, that’s perfect, thank you so much… Yes, please let them know. I’ll inform them to expect your call. ...Thank you, again- Sorry, what was your name? ...Miranda, thank you so much!” 

Spencer hangs up and spins around on his heels to stare wide-eyed at Luke. “You’ve been here eight minutes and all my problems are solved.”

“I, uh… I do what I can?”

“You’re amazing,” he says seriously. “I just need to call Dr. Chen, it’ll take two minutes.” He lets the man now caring for his mother know the insurance is going to come through, and Luke watches as the tension lifts off his lithe frame. He drops his phone to the ground again, but the phone can take it; the ancient models were built for durability. 

Spencer turns to Luke and he’s a man who’s just been rung thin with an insurmountable task that suddenly ended, and he’s a little lost. Clarity hits. “I need a shower.”

Luke laughs, “You do that. Where’s your bedding?”

“Huh?” Spencer looks to his bed, where the bedding often is, and remembers, “Oh, it’s in the laundry room. It’s probably done drying by now…”

“Hand me the key and I’ll get it for you. You shower.”

Spencer complies easily, setting his whole keychain in Luke’s outstretched palm and tapping the one that will let him in the laundry room. “Thank you, Luke.”

“You got it.” Luke locates his dog, sniffing happily around the kitchen, and takes her on the tour of the building to find its laundry facilities. Luckily there’s only one set of sheets, one blanket, and one comforter in the dryers, and they are all a matching set so he grabs the lot, bundles them awkwardly, and can barely see over the mound as he guides Roxy back to Spencer’s. He makes the bed with military precision then raids the kitchen for something to feed his genius. Spencer has a tendency to forget to eat while on cases, and the way he was treating placing his mother in a care facility, this was a case. 

He makes a sandwich, recreating what he saw Spencer make Diana on his last visit, and the shower turns off. Spencer comes out in a robe, dragging a hand towel over his damp curls. He eyes the plate in Luke’s hand longingly and his stomach voices its desire.

“This is for you,” Luke hands the food over.

“You made me food?!”

Luke grins proudly, “I know you.”

Spencer sets the plate on his coffee table and crashes into Luke, kissing with intensity. Luke barely has a chance to respond before Spencer is speaking against his lips, “Thank you so much. I’m so happy you’re here. You made everything better. I’m so sorry I didn’t call!” He pulls back and catches Luke’s gaze before continuing. “I realized in the shower, I never called you back, and I’m so sorry. I just got wrapped up in all this-”

“Spencer,” Luke stops him. “She’s your mother.”

Spencer nods, accepting that. “Still, I apologize for not calling. I broke post-coital protocol.” Luke snorts. Spencer smiles at his ability to make Luke laugh, then looks serious again. “ _ I can’t wait to see you again. I missed you as soon as you closed your door. I thought about you the whole way home and it put a big stupid grin on my face for all the other passengers to see. _ That’s what I would have said.”

Luke caresses Spencer’s cheek, “Then, that’s what you said.”

Spencer closes his eyes and presses his forehead to Lukes. He hums happily, “You’re here.”

“I’m here. Now, let’s get some food in you.”

Spencer agrees, absently taking a bite to sate his hunger, then his eyes widen and he slows to savor. He swallows before praising, “This is perfect.” He finishes without setting it down.

Luke combs his fingers through Spencer’s slowly-drying locks. “When’s the last time you slept? The bed’s ready, if you want to conk out.”

Spencer contemplates, eyes shifting to the bedroom, and then he frowns. “Actually? I don’t want to be here.”

“Okay, where do you want to be?”

“Elsewhere. Anywhere.”

“Sure. You want to go back to my place? You can sleep there, try to beat those sixteen hours you got that first night.”

Temptation lifts his features, “That...maybe later. I’m a little too…” he waves his hands sporatically in front of his face to convey his mental state, “to sleep yet.”

“All right, all right…” Luke thinks. “Do you like the beach?”

“I love the beach!”

“So does Roxy. Get dressed, and let’s take her to the beach.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah! Unless…”

“No- Yes! This- I’ll go change!” Spencer jumps to his feet and bounces into his bedroom. 

Luke takes his plate to the sink and gives it a quick wash, and when he comes back out he has to laugh at what Spencer is wearing, “Between here and your closet, did you forget we’re going to the beach?”

Spencer’s brow furrows, “...No?”

“That’s your beach attire? You’re gonna get sand in your sweater vest.”

Spencer juts his hip out, crossing his arms over his chest, “I grew up in the desert. The beach is cold, Luke.” Luke concedes the point with a grin.

The hour-long drive to Chesapeake Beach is filled with endless facts about marine wildlife, coastal weather patterns, and sand dune migration. Luke knows he can’t possibly memorize them all, but thankfully with Spencer around he doesn’t have to. After a particularly fascinating bit of trivia, Luke reaches over and joins their hands, stroking his thumb across Spencer’s knuckles for a long stretch of road. 

They buy lobster rolls at a small sandwich shop near the boardwalk, then drive to a deserted patch of sand. Luke finds a blanket in his trunk and they lay it out near the crashing waves. A game of fetch with a hunk of drift wood keeps Roxy somewhat leashed to their spot until she tuckers out and curls up in the warm sand at their feet. They eat, gazing out at the sea, close enough to feel each other’s warmth.

Spencer sits much like he did at the picnic: legs crossed, back straight, business attire fluttering in the breeze. Luke has confidence he didn’t have at that picnic, and leans over and kisses Spencer’s cheek, earning him a blush. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m calculating how much sand we’re consuming.” 

“Fun…” Luke quips.

“It is. For me,” Spencer makes sure he has Luke’s eye contact because this is important. “The facts and figures, they aren’t just compulsions. I enjoy them. I like complicated equations and obscure information.”

“I like them, too. Coming from you. Not only have they saved our asses, but being with you means I’m never bored.” He tips his head to the side, smile lopsided, “But I don’t want to know how much sand I’m eating.”

“The number may be smaller than you think!”

“I want no numbers. I want to think it’s zero. I want to enjoy my buttery lobster.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while, their food (and sand) consumed. Colorful sailboats pass in the distance, the clouds overhead are fluffy and pure white, the sun warm enough to fight the oceanic chill. 

Luke rubs his hand down Spencer’s back, “I’m happy to stay here as long as you want. But after, where do you want to be? You want to stay here, away from things? Find a room that welcomes pets?”

Spencer gives the thought time in his mind before shaking his head, “I think I’d like to go back to your place, if you don’t mind? It’s… I like it there.”

“You are  _ always _ welcome. Even if it’s just to see Roxy, since I know that’s why you’re really here.” 

Spencer is, in fact, currently running his fingers through the dog’s sand-dusted fur, and laughs at this. He isn’t ready to leave yet. He needs to soak in more watery abyss, needs to let the thoughts flinging around his brain settle with the soothing rhythm of the waves hitting the shore. Luke can garner that much from the distant look in Spencer’s eyes, and he lays a warm hand on his knee to ground him.

The beach can officially be labeled ‘cold’ by the time Spencer rises to his feet, dusting himself off. Luke lifts the blanket, sending sand soaring through the air, and they head back for the car. On the drive back, Spencer is much quieter, staring out the window as Maryland speeds by. Luke doesn’t interrupt, just lets the genius do his brain thing.

They get back, sand still falling off them like fine snow. 

“I’m gonna give Roxy a bath before she turns all the furniture into sandpaper,” Luke announces as he guides his unsuspecting canine into the bathroom, tossing his shirt at the hamper on his way. He comes out half an hour later with a very annoyed damp dog and a towel around his waist to find Spencer standing in the living room where he left him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, I didn’t want to get sand…” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, “There’s sand in my sweater vest.”

Luke laughs, “I can toss our clothes into my machine. The shower is yours.”

Spencer only takes a single step before frowning, “I don’t have my go-bag.”

“You can wear something of mine. Here, I’ll grab you something.” Still holding the terrycloth at his hip, he roots around in his drawers and hands Spencer a shirt and boxers. Spencer stares at them, worrying his bottom lip, before politely accepting the sleepwear and retreating into the bathroom. He leaves the door open and Luke scoops up his dirty clothes and starts up the wash before dressing himself and feeding his still-dejected pup.

“I think we just unleashed the Mojave into your plumbing,” Spencer calls out once he’s cleaned and dressed.

“That sounds like a problem for the Super,” Luke jokes, joining him in the bedroom. “So, do you need alone time or together time?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, just trails his fingers along Luke’s forearm with a request in his eyes. 

“Together time it is. Are you hungry at all? Tired? Wanna watch something?”

Spencer’s eyes glaze over as he checks in with himself. “Tired. I’m mostly tired.”

Luke pulls down the covers and they collapse into the mattress. It seems they’re  _ both _ tired. Spencer faces away from Luke, and Luke takes it as a hint and tries to maintain some distance, but then Spencer scoots back into him and drags Luke’s forearm around his middle and Luke understands: Spencer wants to be the little spoon. Luke nuzzles his face into those damp curls and plants a kiss on the back of his neck.

Spencer’s sigh is heavy, laden with emotion. 

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen,” Luke offers.

There’s silence for a long time, long enough that Luke thinks Spencer won’t take him up on it. 

Then, finally, “I just can’t help but feel like I failed her. Again.”

Luke doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t know what to say, so he just squeezes a little tighter to show his support.

“I don’t know why I thought I could take care of her this time. I couldn’t before. I had her committed when I was eighteen, the absolute youngest age I could do so. It was like I couldn’t wait to have her sent away. She cried, she  _ begged _ me not to, but I still let them take her. Locked her up. I couldn’t help her. I wanted more for my life, so I treated her like a burden. I wrote her letters because I couldn’t visit her, couldn’t see her in the prison I sent her to, couldn’t see what the schizophrenia did to her because I was just waiting for it to take me, too. I was so selfish… And to try and make up for all of that now, like I didn’t put my own mother through that for all those years, what was I expecting?”

He falls silent, and Luke lets the silence continue until Spencer interrupts it again.

“She thought I was going to kill her. She looked into my eyes and she was so afraid that I was  _ going to kill her.  _ I don’t even remember what I said, I don’t remember getting these scratches, I just remember her screaming. She went after Angela, I just barely stopped her in time. We had to have her committed to the psych ward of a hospital where they could sedate her until I found a place that would take her. She didn’t know where she was, didn’t understand, and I couldn’t stay with her…

“It was so hard growing up with that. It was too much for me, to leave for school knowing she wouldn’t take care of herself, to come back home to find food rotting on the counter. She wouldn’t have left her bed, wouldn’t have bathed or eaten, would still be in the same clothes I left her in days before. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t help her. I wanted to. I tried. I couldn’t. We were everything to each other and I turned my back on her.

“I just wanted her to be okay. She needed to be taken care of and I couldn’t do it anymore. I just want her to know that I love her and I’m so proud to be her son, but I’m afraid that when everything fades, all she’ll remember is that I sent her away.”

The silence stretches longer this time, until Luke is sure he’s finished. He then leans his face against his neck and whispers with conviction, “You are a good son.”

Spencer gasps at that. He wasn’t expecting to hear that, didn’t know how much he needed to, and he doesn’t say anything in response. His breathing is ragged as he fights his emotions until it steadily evens out and sleep takes him. Luke never stops holding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, to all of you still reading :-)


	14. Hurricane Analise

Analise Diaz hangs her temporary Disabled Parking placard on her rearview mirror and hoists herself laboriously out of her vehicle. She’s eight months into her first pregnancy and it feels like she has a very large bowling ball jutting out in front of her. She waddles along the sidewalk toward her cousin’s apartment, then nearly cries when she remembers his building doesn’t have an elevator. She climbs the two flights of stairs, a veritable Everest, and is shouting at him before she even reaches his doorway, “Luke Alvez, you just made me climb stairs! You’d better open up that door right now or I’ll tell your mother you made me stand out in the hallway-” It’s remarkably effective, the door swinging just in time for her to walk through.

“Analise?” Luke is surprised, which is fair considering this visit was unplanned. Even Analise didn’t know she was coming until halfway through the drive.

She pushes past him, still catching her breath, “Lukie, you would not believe what Raul did to me- Ooh, pasta!” She’s immediately distracted by the aroma of carbonara. Moving to the dining table and carefully lowering herself into a chair, she shoves a fork into a plate of noodles and moans around a mouthful. “Oh my god, this is so good! I’m starving!” She shoves in more food, but just keeps on talking, “Anyway, Raul. You won’t believe what he did, the  _ audacity.  _ You know how much I’ve been craving cheese, it’s the only thing keeping me and this baby alive right now, and Raul left the bag unzipped. Unzipped! It’s all dried out now. All of it. Disgusting. He knows I need that cheese, knows it gives me and the baby calcium. He wants this baby not to have bones? And me, his  _ pregnant wife?” _

A container of parmesan is set on the table before her and Analise looks up to see someone she doesn’t recognize. “Oh, hi…”

Luke closes the door with a soft click. “Analise, this is Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my cousin, Analise.”

“Oh, Analise,” Spencer’s voice pitches with recognition. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“You know about me?” She squints her eyes, “What’d he tell you?”

Spencer turns to Luke for help, and Luke delivers, “I said you were like my sister, but pushier.”

Analise analyzes this over another oversized bite. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I’m sorry about your cheese,” Spencer says thoughtfully. “While it can’t be truly rehydrated, it can be grated and used for cooking.”

“Wait, like mac’n’cheese?” Mouth still full of pasta, she salivates at the idea of  _ future _ pasta.

“Exactly! Just add milk and butter. And, macaroni, of course.”

Analise points her fork at Spencer seriously, “I like you.” She shovels in more carbonara, “This is so good. Where did you get this?”

Spencer sets a fresh plate down in front of another seat. “David Rossi, one of our colleagues, taught me that recipe a few years ago.”

“You  _ made _ this?” Analise looks at the table again and for the first time truly sees it: the linen tablecloth, the lit candles, the bottle of wine poured into two glasses. There’s even soft music coming from somewhere in the apartment. “Oh my god. Oh my god, this is a date. Aww, Lukie, you’re on a date! With him! And I interrupted it… Oops…”

“It’s fine!” Spencer is quick to reassure.

“No, no,” Analise lifts her arms. “Help me up and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, Lise, you drove like an hour to get here. You don’t have to leave.” Luke sends an apologetic glance to his date.

Spencer just leans toward her conspiratorially, “There’s cheesecake for dessert.”

“ _ Cheesecake _ ?” She can already taste the sweet, creamy goodness.

Spencer sits down in front of the third plate, serves himself some pasta, and slides his wineglass from Analise’s place setting to his own. This inspires Luke to join, as well, and he gives Spencer’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before he takes his seat. 

“So,” Analise chews, “how did you two meet?”

“We work together,” Luke supplies simply, but his smile toward Spencer conveys a lot more.

“Right,” Analise nods, “you said ‘one of our colleagues’ about the pasta recipe.” She’s proud to have remembered this, considering how much her brain misplaces these days. Then she points to her plate, “Can I have some more?”

“Absolutely,” Spencer scoops generously.

“I really like you,” she tilts her head affectionately to Spencer, then turns to Luke and squeals, “Lukie! You’re  _ dating _ someone!”

He rolls his eyes, “Could you say that with a little  _ more _ surprise? I’m trying to not impress him at all.”

“Oh, you don’t need my help for that,” she winks back. She inhales another bite, “He’s cute, too.”

“Thank you.” Spencer is equal parts flattered and embarrassed. 

She continues, “Maybe too cute for you, Luke. I mean-”

“Lise…”

“I’m kidding!” she holds up a hand, mostly to stop herself. “You’re the best, Luke.” She points a stern finger at Spencer, “He’s the best!”

“I know,” Spencer smiles shyly, then sends Luke another one of those meaningful glances.

Her attention returns to her cousin, “How did Mama Rita react?”

“Uh,” Luke thinks quickly, “she thinks he’s handsome.”

“Handsome…” she rolls the word over her tongue in confusion, then gasps. “She hasn’t met him yet? Am I the first to meet him?”

“Lise, it’s still new,” comes out as almost a whine because Luke is very uncomfortable explaining the relationship with Spencer in the room. Honestly, he’d be uncomfortable even if it were just Analise in the room.

Analise accepts this with a curt nod and more pasta. Then she groans, lip popping out in a pout, “Man, I have to pee again! Luke, lift me up.” He does, and she makes her way to the bathroom.

Luke rubs the back of his neck when he turns back to Spencer, “So, we like to call that Hurricane Analise. Though, the storm rating really increased with the pregnancy.”

“I like her. She calls you Lukie.” The twinkle in his eye promises that nickname will be brought up again.

Luke accepts this with a chuckle. “The pasta really is delicious. Thank you.” Spencer smiles warmly and grasps Luke’s hand in his own, a tender moment in the eye of the storm.

Analise returns, plops heavily in the chair, and pours a mountain of parmesan on her meal. “Can I give some of this to Roxy?”

“No,” Luke reacts sternly.

She rolls her eyes, “You feed that dog better than you feed yourself.”

“Yes,” Luke willingly admits. “Also, she’s on a playdate.”

“Because tonight was supposed to be romantic until I barged in,” Analise says brightly, accepting her role as saboteur with grace.

Luke nods, “Yup.”

“But we’re happy to have you here,” Spencer amends sincerely.

“Thank you! Want to hear embarrassing stories about Luke now?”

“Very much so.”

“Hey! No! No,” Luke wags his finger between the two of them. “None of that.”

Analise can not be deterred, “He had this teddy bear he called Bun-Bun. Because he thought it was a bunny, we think? He took it with him to kindergarten and one of the other kids stole it, and he was too afraid to confront this kid, so  _ I _ had to go get it back for him-”

Luke cuts in, “And then I joined the Army, and no one ever stole my Bun-Buns again. End of story.”

Spencer smiles at this window into their past, but Luke looks pretty miffed, so he decides to share the pain. “When I was growing up, my imaginary friend was Nikola Tesla, because I couldn’t relate to my peers. I spoke to him well into elementary school.”

“Aww,” Analise coos. “But anyway, that kid called me a booger, and then Luke defended my honor by peeing on his jacket while we were at recess.”

This surprises a guffaw out of Spencer, but Luke just groans, “Thanks, Lise.”

“So you should know, Spencer, that if anyone ever messes with you, Luke will defend you. By peeing on their clothes. Like a gentleman.”

Spencer leans into his own lap, laughing so hard he’s silent. 

Luke gets up, “I bet you’re ready for that cheesecake now.”

“Oh, I am,” Analise confirms, far too proud of herself. She wolfs down two slices before she can’t handle another bite, and they walk her down to her car. She gives side hugs because if she leans forward enough to wrap her arms around them she’ll topple over.

“It was wonderful meeting you, Analise.” There’s still laughter in Spencer’s voice.

“You, too, Spencer!”

“Text me when you get home,” Luke kisses her cheek, and with that, Hurricane Analise is off to terrorize another port.

Luke takes Spencer’s hand, guiding him back inside, “Think we can still salvage tonight?”

“I have nowhere else to be. Especially since I now know what a  _ gentleman _ you are, Lukie.”

Luke groans at that. When they make it back to his door, he pauses and looks at Spencer, “You really had an imaginary friend?”

“Hmm, less an imaginary friend and more a willful fabrication, but yes. We’d discuss science.”

Luke presses into Spencer and kisses him, slowly moving his lips, trailing his fingers down Spencer’s sides. When he pulls back, Spencer pushes him into the apartment, following close behind, “Okay, night successfully salvaged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and responding and pressing that kudo button! You are all warming my quarantine heart :-)


	15. Rhythmic Swaying

Luke leans against the wall outside Spencer’s apartment, one knee bent with his shoe against the baseboard, arms crossed over his chest. He’s attempting to seem cool, calm, chill. It’s how he wants Spencer to see him when he arrives, as the antithesis to the stressful day the doctor has been suffering through. He hears Spencer trudge up the steps and lets his arms drop, realizing he needs to appear welcoming as well. When Spencer sees him, and their eyes meet, all Luke’s calculated exterior melts away and Luke goes to him, taking his bag to at least relieve that burden, “Hey, how are you?”

Spencer offers a weak smile as he keys into his home, “Her mental state has improved. She hasn’t had another episode since her sedation so this place seems good for her.”

“That’s great! How are  _ you _ ?” Luke quickly closes the door to give this conversation some privacy.

“Did you know that after age 65, the average lifespan of someone diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease is only four to eight more years?” Spencer pauses for a response.

“No, I didn’t know that,” Luke replies carefully.

“It’s entirely possible that due to her Schizophrenia, my mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis came late.” He’s spouting facts and theories like this isn’t personal, with an expression void of emotion.

Luke drops the bag. He takes Spencer’s hand in his and guides him over to sit on the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of him. “Do you want your shoes on or off?”

“Umm, off?” He’s clearly thrown by the question.

Luke lifts one foot and sets it on his thigh, pulling at the laces. “You can keep going,” he encourages.

Spencer just watches him for a moment, processing, then continues. “She knew who I was. That was… That was good. She was a little confused, but that’s to be expected. Her spirits seemed up and it was... _ nice _ ...seeing her like that.”

Luke stores Spencer’s shoes beneath the coffee table and rises. “Can I take your coat?” Spencer meets his eyes before he nods. Luke steps behind him and slides the stiff material down his arms, folding it over the back of the nearby chair. “Can I get you anything? Water? Are you hungry?”

Spencer thinks it over, brows furrowing with the effort. “Water? Please?”

“You got it,” Luke kisses his forehead and goes to the kitchen, returning with a filled glass and placing it in Spencer’s ready hand. His fingers trail absently through Spencer’s hair. Spencer leans into the touch and Luke stills, cradling his head. “How are you, Spencer?”

“Better,” he sighs. He sips some water before setting it down. “How… How did you…?”

“Get your shoes off? I learned how to untie shoes years ago.” He grins, hoping his joke is well-received. Spencer just nods, his fingers dancing spasmodically against his leg. Luke lays a gentle hand over them, stilling them. “How about I get you something to eat?” He’s in the kitchen again, and opens the fridge to find it empty and smelling of bleach. Spencer has done an excellent job of scrubbing away the old but has yet to start anew. Luke checks the cupboard and sure enough the box of Lady Grey is gone.

“I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping since…” Spencer’s voice carries from the couch, a belated warning.

“That’s okay,” Luke returns to the main room, sliding his phone from his pocket, “I can just order us something.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer hunches over, shoulders too heavy. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come…”

Luke pauses. The question tastes bitter, but he has to ask it. “Do you want me to go?”

“No!” Spencer shouts with jarring intensity. “Sorry, no, I  _ really _ don’t.”

“Good,” Luke breathes. He takes the cushion next to Spencer and lays a comforting hand on his knee. “So, are we thinking Chinese? I can teach you to use chopsticks.” Spencer frowns. “Not that. How about Mexican? Everyone loves tacos.” Spencer nods because, truly, everyone loves tacos. Luke orders enough for Spencer to have a couple more meals until he can get himself to a grocery store. He contemplates ordering staples from his local shop for delivery, but that might be overstepping. “All right, we’ve got an hour before the food arrives, so…” He scans the apartment, ready to pull out another boardgame when he sees a record player with probably 200 albums. “Does that turntable still work?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, it does.”

“Want to listen to some music?” Luke is already getting up.

“Sure. It’s mostly my mom’s old collection. I brought it over from Vegas when we sold the house.”

Luke pulls out a small pile of dust jackets: The Beatles, Elvis, Sinatra… “Motown?” He waves a record excitedly. “This is what I was raised on!” He sets the record to play and Diana Ross’s voice fills the room, telling them to reach out and touch somebody’s hand. Luke stands before Spencer and offers his hand, “Dance with me.”

“I… I can’t really dance…”

“It’s a slow song. It’s not so much dancing as rhythmic swaying.” He reaches his hand closer, “Rhythmically sway with me.” Spencer huffs out a laugh, a small smile reaching his eyes. He takes Luke’s hand and allows himself to be pulled close and Luke guides him in a gentle back-and-forth motion. Luke keeps one hand at the small of his back, the other gliding between his shoulder blades, and he can feel Spencer’s body start to loosen. 

Spencer nuzzles his nose into Luke’s shoulder, sweetly seeking him. Luke turns his head to press a kiss into his curls.

An Al Green song plays and Luke softly sings the words into Spencer’s ear, “ I, I'm I'm so in love with you, whatever you want to do is all right with me. Cause you make me feel so brand new. And I want to spend my life with you. Let me say that since, baby, since we've been together, loving you forever is what I need…” Luke pulls back just enough to look into Spencer’s hazel eyes and cups his cheek, “I am, Spencer. I’m  _ so _ in love with you.”

Spencer’s mouth hangs slack, eyes shining, and he’s not really breathing. “I… I…” 

Luke sees his struggle and kisses it away. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs against his lips, then looks him in the eye again because this is important. “I didn’t say it for you to say it back. In fact, don’t. Don’t say it until it feels right. I just wanted you to know. Because I love you.”

Spencer looks so vulnerable, and he’s trembling slightly, so Luke tucks his face back protectively into his shoulder and rocks him to the music. Spencer’s grip suddenly tightens around his middle, and he’s clutching and breathing heavily and still shaking in his arms. Luke strokes down his spine, softly humming the next song, slowly soothing him. Then Spencer kisses him, and it’s emotional, passionate, but mostly it’s  _ happy.  _ He’s pressing his joy into his lips and Luke can  _ taste _ it. 

Luke can feel Spencer’s fingers slide along his jaw, pulling his face closer for a deeper kiss. He’s communicating a lot in the press of his lips, the sigh of his breath, the glide of his tongue against Luke’s, but Luke won’t pretend to know specifically what that message is until he hears it aloud. He has hopes, but he also has patience.

That heated kiss gentles, travels down Luke’s chin, along his neck, then out to his shoulder where Spencer again buries his face. They move together easily, gaining familiarity, until the record ends. Luke turns his face into Spencer’s ear, “Any requests from the DJ?”

“Hmm?” Spencer asks in dazed confusion, then realizes the music stopped. “Oh, right. I, well- They’re less conducive to contemporary forms of dance, but I have some of Mozart’s symphonies.”

“You like Mozart?”

“Yes, I love-” he stops himself at that word, wincing. He swallows hard and tries again, “He’s my favorite composer.”

Luke glides past the moment, “So, this is more the ‘sit on the couch’ type of music?”

“It was my ‘play chess by myself on a Saturday’ music, so sitting with you on the couch will be an immense improvement.” Spencer sets the new record in place and drops the needle into Symphony No. 41.

Luke toes off his shoes, letting them fall somewhere near Spencer’s, and spreads out along the couch, luxuriating in how much bigger it is than his at home. He looks up to see Spencer staring at him. “What?”

Spencer immediately closes his eyes, biting his lip.

A smile slowly spreads across Luke’s face, “Were you checking me out?” Spencer has the grace to confess, but only with a nod. “Spencer,  _ please _ check me out! I have a massive ego that needs constant stroking,” he waggles his eyebrows, perhaps too suggestive.

Spencer frowns, his nose twitching and his fingers tapping his thigh, all signs of his nerves, and Luke feels concern growing in his gut until Spencer finally speaks, “I think, a small part of me is always going to be a lonely teenager, and I just wanted to make sure he saw what his future holds, because it’s pretty great.” He swallows, his nose doing that twitch again, then finally looks up to gauge Luke’s response.

That  _ adorable _ man, that adorable man whom Luke  _ loves, _ is suddenly way too far. “Come  _ here.” _

He smiles, complying with hurried steps, then hovers over Luke’s form because all the cushions are occupied. Luke grabs his arm and tugs until he topples atop him with a startled meep, a clumsy tumble of limbs that Luke maneuvers over himself until they’re kissing. Without words their mouths convey how happy they are to be there with each other, how wonderful they make each other feel, how attracted they are, how enthralled.

The knock on the door startles them enough that Spencer almost falls off. Luke catches him, laughs as he holds him tightly to his chest. “I think that’s the tacos.”

Spencer groans his disapproval.

“Hey, we do not disrespect tacos.”

“Okay, but you’re answering the door,” Spencer slides to the far end of the couch, discretely placing a pillow in his lap that has Luke pretty proud of himself.

Luke gets the door, exchanges pleasantries for food, and when he turns back around he’s surprised not to find Spencer waiting on the couch. He hears sounds from the kitchen and follows them. Spencer is pulling plates down for them, a nice gesture, but Luke has other plans. Setting the bag on the counter, he walks up behind him, closes the gap, runs his hands down Spencer’s sides before wrapping them around his middle, and gently nips the back of his neck. “I think the tacos can wait…”

“Mmm-hmm,” Spencer nods enthusiastically. He spins in Luke’s hold and kisses him, presses his whole body into him and gasps against his lips. He plucks Luke’s hand from behind his back and takes the lead, rushing out of the kitchen. They pass the couch and go straight into the bedroom, a happy surprise for Luke because no matter how comfortable that couch is, nothing beats a bed.

Spencer hops in, excited, and Luke chases. He lies next to him, into him, on a mattress that quickly forms to his shape. “Nice mattress,” he comments absently as he mouths at Spencer’s throat. He can feel and hear Spencer’s response, “Thanks, it’s new.” And of course it’s new. Just like there’s no Lady Grey tea in the kitchen, the bed Diana slept in had to be replaced. Luke doesn’t want to be thinking about that, though, and he certainly doesn’t want Spencer thinking about that, so he just keeps kissing him, keeps adoring him. Keeps showing him how much he loves him. Because it’s okay that only Luke has said those three words, and it’s okay if he’s the only one yet feeling them. He’ll love enough for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the responses this story has been getting! I wag in my chair with every comment :-)


	16. Eclectic Bouquet

Spencer is barricaded in a literary fort, surrounding by piles of books on cultural customs, symbolism, and poetry. There are even a few classic romantic tales shuffled in to round out the research. 

How does one repay the fulfillment of dreams? Because Luke has done so. Yes, the dreams of a young boy yearning for connection, the dreams of a teenager spending too much time alone wishing games for two could be shared with a second, the dreams sparked every time Spencer put himself out there and offered himself to another. 

But also, Luke somehow fulfilled _that_ dream, the dream his grieving mind concocted to help him cope with the loss of his first love before he could ever tell her how he felt, where even though he’d never touched her, his brain allowed them to dance. And then _Luke danced_ _with him._ Held him close and moved them slowly just as he had years ago in what had only been a wish. Then beyond even hope itself, Spencer was told he was loved. Luke is in love with him. And Spencer feels the same, has harbored such emotions since their first hello and for so long assumed he’d have to hold them in silence, that all of Luke’s kindness was from a friend, every touch platonic. Then to discover he wanted, and was wanted in return. The culmination overwhelmed, nearly broke Spencer, but Luke was there still, holding him together.

Spencer loves Luke, yearns to tell him so, but realizes in all his life he’s never had such opportunity, has no experience to draw from. So he studies. He studies the romantic tales of medieval courtship, the poets of the English Renaissance, the communications of his Victorian counterparts. There are so many ways to tell someone you love them, and Luke deserves every one. Except that might overwhelm in turn, so Spencer begins to narrow down his list.

He settles on the perfect poem, transcribing it from memory in his impressively legible cursive he reserves for letter writing. 

He visits his favorite chocolatier and fills a box with a variety because he doesn’t actually know which candies Luke prefers, but he’s looking forward to finding out. A boutique wine shop is his next stop, and then a grocery store when he remembers life requires budgeting.

It takes three florists and a mild legal infraction, and his collection is complete. 

He’s planned everything except the actual visit. He’s done this in the wrong order. 

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez   
Are you home? And up for a visit? _

Luke kind of has to say yes because some of these things are perishable…

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid   
Yes, and very much yes ;-) _

A winky face. Spencer blushes out on the sidewalk in front of his building, arms weighed down by too many bags. Another thought occurs to him, in once again the wrong order.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez   
Do you have any allergies? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid   
None that I know of… _

Ellipsis. Implying confusion or mystery. Good. Mystery can be exciting, and this should be exciting. He bounces down the stairs into the train station. His body is humming. The plan is coming along, researched and realized. He’s going to tell Luke he loves him.

The excitement morphs to nerves. They bubble in his stomach and turn his gills a bit green and he tries to swallow them down. He’s going to tell Luke he loves him. That’s a big deal. His years as a profiler, BA in Psychology, and genius IQ all come together to let him know: he might have a hang-up. His single previous flash of love ended in such tragedy that the whole genre is a tad… terrifying. To love is to make oneself vulnerable, to tear one’s heart out and let another walk away with it in the hopes they will return. His fingers, unable to reach his legs through his haul, twitch in the air.

He almost misses Luke’s station, shoving into the exiting crowd just in time to miss getting clapped by the doors. He climbs to the street quickly, even though his mind could use extra time, and suddenly he’s at Luke’s door. He takes a deep breath. This is going to be fine. He has a plan. He’s done the research. He can rely on that. 

What he can’t do, however, is knock. The bags prevent much arm movement, and are too bulky for a fist to connect with the wood. He kicks the door, startled by how loud the bang is. It sounds angry. This was not part of the plan.

The door swings open to a confused Luke, “Spencer?”

“Sorry!” Spencer swings the heft of containers in explanation and excuse.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, “You’ve been busy!”

“I have,” Spencer shuffles in awkwardly, too wide with his load for the doorway. “Sorry, Roxy, I can’t give you a cookie yet but I will soon, I promise.” 

Since all the dog can understand is ‘cookie,’ Luke gets the treat for her as he shuts the door. “So, whatcha got there?”

Spencer unloads onto the dining table: a white paper box, a bottle, a slip of paper blessedly unwrinkled, and ten plants wrapped in newspaper. He looks at it all, the carefully cultivated items, then peaks back at Luke. Sweet, wonderful Luke who’s watching with an easy smile and obvious curiosity and so much fondness. Then he looks back at the table full of gestures and swallows.

“I’m over-thinking this,” he mumbles mostly to himself. He turns back to Luke and his heart fills with the emotion he’s been working up to confessing, and it suddenly feels so easy. The nerves are gone, replaced by warmth, and he’s smiling at his love. “I…” a shiver runs up his spine because this is a moment he’s waited for for a long time, “I love you.” It feels good, amazing to say, and he finds himself laughing at the joy of it, so he says it again, “I love you! I’m in love with you!”

Luke is stunned for a moment, then he takes a step backwards, Spencer’s words physically knocking him back. He reaches behind himself, finds the coffee table, and drops himself onto it. His eyes are dazed but a smile slowly spreads across his face. All the air leaves his lungs in a single syllable, “Whoa…”

Emboldened by such a positive response, Spencer returns to his plan. He lifts the paper box and walks it over to Luke, setting it on his lap. “These are chocolates. They’re believed to assist the brain in releasing mood-enhancing chemicals, dopamine and serotonin, hence the link to love and romance.”

Luke places a hand on the box, protecting it from sliding away, and sees the pile on the dining table with fresh eyes. His breathing is labored like his heart is so full his lungs don’t have enough room and he’s staring at Spencer in absolute awe.  _ “Spencer,” _ comes out like it’s the only word he can remember and he needs it to convey everything he’s feeling.

Spencer brushes a kiss against those parted lips and, because it feels so amazing to do so, whispers, “I love you, Luke.” He returns to his collection and pulls two champagne flutes out of a bag, still in their box. He opens it, pops the cork on the bottle, and pours them each a splash. 

When he brings the glasses over to Luke, he sees tears are shining in his eyes. Luke sniffs before asking, “You’re doing all this for me?”

“Yes,” Spencer says seriously, because Luke needs to understand that  _ of course _ all of this is for him. “I’ve never gotten to tell anyone this before, so I needed to do it right. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“It is.” Luke’s breath hitches, “It’s perfect.”

He hands a glass to Luke and lifts his own. “The French have equated champagne with romance since the 18th Century, and it is still largely reserved for celebration to this day. So, cheers!” He clinks their flutes together and takes a sip.

Luke sips as well, slower, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer.

On his way back to the dining table, Spencer takes another sip because he still has a lot to do here and maybe there are a few butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He pulls out a blue porcelain vase and a bottle of water. The vase he sits next to Luke on the coffee table, and the bottle is emptied into it. “I have flowers,” he explains because Luke is still looking a bit dazed.

Luke reaches up, only gets out, “Can…” before he grasps Spencer’s shoulder and pulls him down, touching their foreheads together. “This is amazing,” he breathes out, voice tight with emotion. He takes in a shaky breath, his voice a bit louder when he says with great purpose, “I love you.”

Spencer lowers to his knees, now below Luke, and pulls his face in for a sweet kiss. “I love you so much. I just want to show you that.”

Luke nods vigorously, then lets out a watery laugh, “Yes, please show me!”

Spencer smiles up at him, hops up for another quick kiss, then goes back to the dining table. To prevent this silly commute between Luke and his gifts, Spencer piles everything into his arms and dumps them gently at Luke’s feet. He kneels before Luke so he can look up at his face, filled with such fondness, and Spencer remembers that it’s  _ love. _

Plucking up a wrapped flower, Spencer removes the paper and holds up a long stem with clusters of pale pink petals and long stamens reaching out at the end. “This is marjoram. It symbolizes joy and happiness, and you’ve given me so much of that.” 

Luke gasps in excitement, “These have meanings?”

Spencer nods, touched by just how affected Luke is by all this, “Yes, each one.”

Luke sighs, caressing Spencer’s cheek, and Spencer leans into the touch, placing a kiss on his palm. Then Spencer reaches for the box, slides off the lid, and selects a milk chocolate truffle with a coconut center. He holds it in front of Luke’s mouth until his lips part, and slides it in, grazing his lips with his fingers. He notes the elation that comes over his features at the flavor, filing that for later.

He reaches for the next package and produces a stalk of small white buds, “White heather means the fulfillment of a wish, and I… for so long I hoped…” The intensity of the moment suddenly catches him, and he’s swallowing around a lump in his throat. 

“I hoped for you, too,” Luke whispers, a joyful tear sliding down his cheek.

Spencer nods, happy he’s understood, then takes in a deep cleansing breath. He’s safe. He can expose himself like this to Luke because they love each other.  _ They love each other. _

The next flower has purple cup-shaped blossoms. Spencer’s voice returns with strength, “Canterbury Bells, because I am so grateful for you. I can be myself with you and you actually seem to like that. You came with me to a horror movie night I’ve been unsuccessfully inviting friends to for years, even though you clearly don’t like scary movies, and you named a star for me. And you were there for me when my mom… when I needed you. So thank you.” 

“Oh, Spencer,” Luke leans forward to kiss his forehead and Spencer hums happily at the sensation. “I’m so grateful for you, too.” Luke sits back, ready to continue.

Spencer unwraps the next to show a stem with long fuzzy white petals. “The legend of the Edelweiss Flower is that it only grows in the highest reaches of the Alps and only the bravest could obtain it to prove their love. I got this at a Hearts in Bloom, three blocks from my apartment,” he smirks, and is settled by the sound of Luke’s teary chuckle. “But the qualities it represents, daring, courage, and nobility, I see those in you. You protected me in prison, you ran into a burning building to save JJ, you would take a bullet for any one of us. But please don’t.” Spencer laughs mostly to himself. “I admire you.”

“You-” Luke gasps, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. He slides off the table and pulls Spencer to him gently, his arms trembling as he squeezes him. He stifles a sob into Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer holds the flower against his back, stroking his hair with his free hand. “Yes, I admire you, and yes, I love you.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing all this for me!” he gasps out, then inhales heavily a few times to gain control of his breathing. “I love you so much.” He pulls back, his eyes red and damp and he takes Spencer’s face in his hands and repeats, “I love you so much, Spencer!”

Spencer’s gleeful laugh is almost a sob. He brings up a thumb to gently wipe away the tears hanging to Luke’s lashes.

Luke settles on the floor beside him, keeping a hand on Spencer’s knee.

The Edelweiss joins the other flowers in the vase and Spencer produces two new plants: a stalk with a cone of yellow blossoms and a cluster of small white flowers. “Ambrosia and Bouvardia. Your love is reciprocated enthusiastically. I really, I love you so much. And, and you love me…” Spencer holds onto that sentence, closes his eyes and savors. 

“I do love you,” Luke says quickly, like he thinks Spencer could still use the assurance. Spencer is grateful, because he will never tire of hearing those words coming from this man.

He next holds up a single thornless red rose. “This is for love at first sight.” His nose twitches. This is a big admission. It’s all big admissions, but there’s a difference between ‘I’ve grown to love you in our time together’ and ‘I’ve loved you since I could connect your impressive file with your gorgeous face,’ but Luke deserves honesty.

He grabs the paper inked with his cursive and places it in Luke’s hand, then recites Christopher Marlowe’s verses from his heart:   
“ It lies not in our power to love or hate,   
For will in us is overruled by fate.   
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,   
We wish that one should love, the other win;   
And one especially do we affect   
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:   
The reason no man knows; let it suffice   
What we behold is censured by our eyes.   
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:   
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?” 

Luke is staring at him, eyes wide and jaw slack. Spencer swallows, frowning seriously. He can trust Luke to be honest, so he asks for just that, “Okay, tell me, was that too much? Did I go-”

“Are you kidding me?” Luke practically shouts. “Of course it’s not too much! All of this, no one’s ever done anything like this for me before! I think this is the best moment of my life.” His eyes bore into Spencer’s soul, making him understand how sincere he’s being. “I’m never gonna forget this.”

Spencer sighs, feeling his breath leave from deep within him. He leans forward and clutches Luke’s lapels, pulling him in for a kiss. There’s nothing like kissing Luke, nothing that has ever simultaneously grounded him while making him feel like he’s floating, nothing that can soothe like Luke’s lips against his own. He pulls back and smiles his thanks, then then picks up the next piece of folded newspaper. He places it on Luke’s leg before unfolding the layers, revealing three dark green leaves. “I stole these from a neighbor’s yard.”

Luke barks out a laugh. “You stole them?”

“They’ll never know. The branch was hanging over the fence, so it was technically public property-”

“No, no. This was you climbing the Alps for me. You risked a  _ citation.  _ There might have been a  _ fine, _ or a notation in your  _ file.” _

Spencer laughs, blushing brightly, “All right, we’ll call it an act of bravery. The, umm, the lemon leaves symbolize everlasting love. While it is beyond our mortal ability to promise the future, we can promise intent, and I want this- want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Luke sighs as more happy tears spill from shining eyes, and he’s nodding like he wants that as well. Spencer reaches forward and grips Luke’s forearm, comforting them both.

He unwraps the final flower and holds up a stalk of pink clustered blooms, “Mezereon, meaning ‘desire to please.’ Luke, I… I just want to make you happy.”

Luke quickly plucks the flower from Spencer’s fingers and drops it in the vase, so he may claim Spencer wholly. They fall back against the carpet, side by side. He wraps him in his arms and squeezes, whispering rapid adorations. “You are. You make me so happy. This is amazing. I was already in love with you, but this? Oh my god. I’ve never felt like this, this loved. I love you. Oh my god, I love you so much!”

Spencer soaks it in, and because it still feels wonderful to say, he repeats with equal sincerity, “I love you.”

Luke moans at that, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s neck. He mouths a trail to his pulse-point, pressing his body into Spencer’s like he’s trying to get inside. “So gorgeous. Gorgeous body. Gorgeous brain.”

Spencer can’t help the giggle that bubbles forth.

“Gorgeous brain?” Luke checks that that’s what made him laugh, and all Spencer can do is nod. “It is, though.” Luke pulls back enough to place a hand over Spencer’s chest, the other wrapping around his waist. “You’ve got all this going on, but the sexiest part about you is your brain.” Spencer hides his face against Luke’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. “Sexy brains,” Luke repeats, earning another giggle. “So, what’s the last one?”

“Hmm?” Spencer’s too distracted to try and guess what Luke’s referring to.

“There’s one more thing of newspaper.”

“Oh, right!” Spencer sits up and grabs the last package. He unfolds the flaps and lays it in Luke’s hands.

Luke pulls out a stem with a lacey green leaf and brings it to his nose. “It smells like pickles.”

Spencer nods, “It’s dill.”

“And what’s dill mean?”

Spencer lies back against him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before dragging his nose up his neck and nipping his ear. His voice is a breath against warm skin, “Lust.”

Luke gasps, hands gripping Spencer’s waist, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Spencer tugs and they stumble over bags and crumpled newspaper toward the bedroom.

Later Spencer will trim the stems to let the flowers last longer, and Luke will proudly display the eclectic bouquet right where it was formed on his coffee table. And next to those brightly blooming flowers they will tell each other, again and again, “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first mensiversary of this fic! I hope you’ve been enjoying reading it as much as I’ve been enjoying writing it. And for all those who celebrate, happy 4/20! Blaze it :-)


	17. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a *bit* of a retelling of 13x02 To A Better Place, so some moments may seem similar.

Luke’s apartment is quiet, the lights are out, and Roxy is snoring softly below the foot of the bed. Spencer is drawing a Fibonacci spiral in Luke’s chest with his index finger. Luke picks that elegant hand up to his lips, kisses the palm, and sets it back down over his heart.

“We should talk about it.” Spencer’s voice is hushed to fit the hour.

“Talk about what?”

“We go back in tomorrow.” 

Luke will be returning, with the rest of the team, to active duty in the morning, and Spencer will be jumping through one more bureaucratic hoop before he’s told if he’ll be reinstated. 

“That’s on my calendar, too,” Luke jokes.

Spencer doesn’t laugh. His mind is too fogged in by thoughts. “Do we tell the others? About us?”

Luke keeps all expression off his face, “What do you want to do?”

Brows furrowed in thought, Spencer frowns. “Believe it or not, I’ve never had to test the anti-fraternization policy before, and while it’s written to discourage relationships between superiors and their subordinates, there is an ‘undue influence’ clause that could be used to prevent relationships in a single unit.”

“So one of us might get transferred.” Luke’s distaste at the idea is obvious.

“Provided I’m even reinstated.”

“Of course you’ll be reinstated!” Luke can tell Spencer isn’t convinced by his enthusiasm alone, so he presses on. “Do you know how much material I had to study to get into the BAU that was authored by you? You basically wrote the book.”

Spencer winces, imagining Luke bogged down in what he’s been informed are long-winded phrasings and overly-detailed examples. “Sorry about that.”

“What? No, your’s were the best parts. The only thing that could have made them better was if your picture was under the title, like they do in newspapers. But now I can look at your face right here.” He gives Spencer a kiss and is rewarded by the emergence of a smile, pulling the genius out of a forming funk. “So, we go in tomorrow. You get reinstated. I get my desk back with that drawer that doesn’t like to open and the chair with the squeaky wheel. We see our team…” Luke elongates the last word, leaving an obvious blank for Spencer to fill.

Spencer worries his lip for a moment before coming to a conclusion, “I don’t want things to get weird. I don’t want Prentiss to worry about which assignments she sends us on, I don’t want Garcia giving us a hard time. It’ll be weird enough with JJ watching us for signs, I _really_ don’t want Rossi giving me relationship advice.”

Luke huffs a laugh at that. “Then we don’t tell them,” he says easily, shrugging a single shoulder.

“They’re profilers.” Spencer is finding this less easy.

“So are we,” Luke reminds patiently.

Spencer mulls that over, brows furrowed again. “Do _you_ want to tell them?”

“You’ve known them longer. I defer to your judgement, seeing as you are the genius in this relationship.” 

Spencer puzzles him out, and since Luke knows he’s being sincere he’s ready when Spencer finally relaxes into a smile.

“But for now,” Luke leans in, “I’m going to kiss your face.” He does, planting pecks on Spencer’s cheek, nose, and eyebrow in quick succession, leaving Spencer giggling in the darkness.

In the morning, they perform a choreographed routine in the confines of the small bathroom with combs and toothbrushes. Roxy gets her gourmet breakfast while Luke gulps down a protein shake, and he offers a bottle to Spencer. With one sip, Spencer learns he prefers just coffee. Spencer leaves twenty minutes earlier, the bare minimum to avoid suspicion, and is off to the top floor offices. 

The first day back after mandatory leave starts with a fifteen minute meeting with the bureau psychiatrist as a formality to ensure they are still happy and healthy agents, and a day’s work of paperwork because the FBI is nothing without its forms. 

Luke enters the bullpen, drops the files on his desk, and joins Garcia, Rossi, and JJ as they animatedly discuss their recent adventures. Luke pointedly ignores JJ’s subtle glances his way and wonders what she can already glean.

Then Spencer comes through the double doors and it’s like a celebrity sighting. JJ rushes to hug him, Garcia hops giddily in her heels, and even Rossi is beaming.

“Are you back?” Garcia holds out her arms, second in line for an embrace.

“I’m back,” Spencer nods, and he’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Prentiss descends the stairs from her office with Tara and Matt, the band back together, and they celebrate the addition to their team and the return of a friend. They’re all smiling and cheering, but Luke can still see there’s something wrong with Spencer.

They’re released to their desks for hours of trying to fit their penmanship in tiny boxes on endless forms, and when Luke spots Spencer heading over to the coffee pot, he follows. Luckily, no one else does. 

“Good to have you back, Reid,” Luke greets casually, feeling like one smooth cat.

“Thanks, Luke,” Spencer nods, and yep, it’s confirmed, he’s troubled by something.

“Are you...happy to be back?” 

Spencer sighs, looking around to make sure no one can overhear, then speaks in a hushed tone anyway, “I’m 76.92% happy.”

“Uh...huh…”

“It’s not a full reinstatement, it’s a conditional one. For every 100 days I spend in the field, I have to take 30 days off.” He huffs out an angry breath, “They don’t trust me.”

“Hey, if they didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here. This is them covering their own asses, and you know how good they are at that.”

Spencer just keeps on frowning.

“This will blow over. We’ll need you too much and they’ll have to reevaluate. You’ll see.” He gives a gentle punch to Spencer’s shoulder, the at-work version of a caress. 

Finally, Spencer nods. He isn’t happy yet, but Luke knows the only way he’ll get there is to have the time to organize his thoughts into something he approves of. They fill their mugs and return to their desks. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke watches Spencer settle in, even come to enjoy being back. The whole team is basking in their togetherness and the brief reprieve a Paperwork Day gives them from murders and violent psychopaths. 

His stomach lets Luke know when it’s lunchtime and he stands to address the team in its entirety, “Hey, wasn’t there a vegan place around here?”

“Vegan Soul at Garrisonville and Center,” Spencer answers automatically, eyes still on his paperwork.

“Yeah, that one. Anyone interested?”

Matt gives him some serious side-eye, “Nah, man. I’m good.”

“I’m not really in the mood for tofu,” JJ quirks a smile, letting her wise eyes linger on him for far too long. 

“You know, a vegan diet, even if only practiced once a week, is better for both digestion and the environment,” Spencer explains in his specific professorial way.

“You in?” Luke invites Spencer with a casual jut of his chin, already turning toward the elevator.

“Yes!” Spencer hops up to follow him out. “They have a vegan shrimp po’ boy that I’ve been meaning to try, which utilizes the konjac plant, also known as the devil’s tongue.” When they’re outside the building crossing the campus lawn, Spencer asks, “Are we actually going to Vegan Soul? Because I really have been interested in trying it.”

“I know you have,” Luke smiles proudly. “I remember you mentioned it last year, of course we’re going.”

There’s an extra bounce in Spencer’s step all the way to the restaurant, where he gets his po’ boy and Luke gets to try an animal-free cheesesteak. They take a table in the corner, away from the other patrons.

“You seem happier,” Luke smiles fondly.

Spencer nods enthusiastically around a bite, and swallows before responding, “It turns out Prentiss already has plans for my 30 day absences. She’s set up courses for me to teach, allowing me to plan my own syllabi.”

“That’s great!” Luke gets out around a hunk of his delicious sandwich.

“I would still prefer to remain with the BAU full-time, but this can be exciting. I’m looking at the bright side. Because I have a lot to be happy about right now.” He casts a meaningful smile Luke’s way, before taking another bite.

They eat in companionable silence for a moment, then Spencer gives him a puzzled look and asks, “How do you do it? How do you compartmentalize this at work?”

“You mean our relationship? I don’t know,” he shrugs, mulling it over. “I’ve done a lot of undercover work? Gotten pretty good at controlling my behavior. I’m just treating you how I did last year. I already had feelings for you then and I kept them under wraps, so I guess I had practice.” 

Spencer’s eyes are wide and bright, and there’s hope in his voice, “You- you did?”

“Did I have feelings for the hot genius?” Luke laughs, “Yeah, I really did.” This news seems to be making Spencer’s day, so Luke fills in more details. “You had me at ‘Sevoflurane puts you in a hypnotic trance.’ It was that first day we met, we were on the jet, and you were rattling off chemical compounds and wiggling your fingers in the air, and… Yeah. Feelings.”

Spencer seems to be in a bit of a hypnotic trance himself, eyes distant as he recalls the moment, “I had no idea…”

“Well, we _were_ discussing serial killers at the time. So, you know, I kept it under wraps. Plus, I had no idea you felt the same-”

“I didn’t think I had a chance! I just buried everything I felt for you, thinking it was a lost cause.”

“Good thing we got our heads out of the sand.”

Spencer chuckles, “Yeah. Though, that leads to my problem. Now that those feelings aren’t buried… I have not been as skilled as you have been. I just, I keep wanting to touch you, to grab your hand or squeeze your shoulder. You-” Spencer drops his eyes, “You said that joke to Matt and I wanted to kiss you, _right there in the bullpen.”_

Luke laughs, “That’d be a great way to tell the team, for the looks on their faces alone.”

Spencer cocks his head, “You want to tell them, don’t you?”

“No, I’m fine either way. I just don’t want you to feel guilty if you accidently out us. I want to encourage this instinct of yours to kiss me.” 

Spencer smiles and Luke takes the image in in a way only lovers have a right to. His eyes linger over the slight blush forming on Spencer’s cheeks at the admiration, the crinkle around his eyes that show his joy, the way his teeth play with his lower lip when his chest fills with emotion. Luke sighs, “You really are gorgeous.”

Spencer gasps, because no matter how often Luke compliments him he always reacts like it’s the first time, the best time. He lowers his voice, in case someone who know someone they know overhears, “I love you.”

Luke matches his volume, even though this whole conversation has been pretty equally incriminating, but he’s letting Spencer’s comfort level guide them. “I love you, too.”

And that’s how Luke successfully fits a lunch date with Spencer into a work day.

The rest of the day goes by quickly enough, with more chatting over dull documents and far more coffee than is healthy. When at the end of the day, Luke and Spencer exit the elevator together on the ground floor and leave the rest of the team to travel down to the parking garage, it isn’t suspicious. They usually exit this way, not always together, but the train station and Luke’s apartment are in the same direction and that’s common enough knowledge. 

Once they’ve officially left the FBI grounds, Luke slips his hand into Spencer’s. 

Spencer squeezes back, dropping his head to Luke’s shoulder for a few steps. “I got an email from Alex Blake today. She used to be on the team, and before that I guest lectured in her classes. She’s now a linguistics professor at Harvard.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s a brilliant linguist. She taught me Yoruba, and it’s thanks to her that I’m now fully fluent in Russian. She’s developing coursework for a new class and she’s asked for my opinion.”

“Wow, academia heard you were coming back and just couldn’t wait, huh?”

Spencer laughs, shaking his head, “I own most of the books she’ll be assigning, so I’ll be reading through them and making notations on complex syntax and idioms.”

“Sounds like she’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

They come to an intersection and while Luke goes forward Spencer turns right until their joined hands yank them back. “Oh, I-” Spencer gets out at the same time that Luke starts with, “Wait, aren’t-” and they both go silent to let the other speak. Spencer takes the initiative, pointing down his path to the station entrance, “I have that assignment.”

“Right, of course.” Luke gently releases his hand, vaguely indicating where his apartment is, “I just assumed…”

“I mean, I don’t have to tonight…”

“No,” Luke smiles. “We can spend one night apart.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking,” Spencer sighs.

“It’s fine. Roxy and I will make due.” Luke hopes a joke will help make things less… weird. 

“Give her a cookie for me?” Spencer takes a backward step toward his destination.

“Okay. Just one.”

Spencer turns, starts walking away, and Luke calls out to him, “Call me when you go to bed?”

Spencer spins back, jogging the few steps it takes to return to Luke and throws his arms over his shoulders. “I forgot the goodbye kiss!” He leans in, sweetly pressing their lips together, and they stay in each others’ presence for a moment longer. When he pulls away he promises, “I’ll call you when I go to bed. It might be late. Hopefully not. I’ll call you regardless.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Luke gives him a quick squeeze around the middle, then lets him go. “Enjoy your Russian literature.”

“It will actually be the Romance languages, but thank you!” Spencer dashes off into the night and Luke watches him go. Halfway to the station, Spencer turns around and gives one of his little waves, a shy smile on his face, and Luke waves back, and then they’re apart.

Luke’s apartment still smells of that eclectic bouquet, its blooms just beginning to wilt. He changes the water, hoping to keep them alive just a bit longer, and goes through his evening routine. It feels lessened by Spencer’s absence, this being their first night apart since Spencer’s incredibly thoughtful love declaration. He stays up a bit later than usual, re-reading that ridiculous romance novel Spencer found their first night together, and brings his phone to bed. 

His head just hits the pillow when the phone starts to vibrate, and Luke answers it before the first ring, “Hey.”

“Hey!” Spencer’s voice is excited, though a bit tinny over the connection. “You know how I can read 20,000 words per minute? That’s not true in Spanish! This is going to take longer than I thought.”

Luke laughs, “So you’re just a genius in English?”

“You’re actually not the first person to tell me that, so it must be true.”

“You’re still genius enough for me.”

“Oh, that’s good. Thank you.”

Their easy laughter titters into silence.

“So, guess what I’ve been reading,” Luke prompts.

“I’m betting it wasn’t Don Quixote de la Mancha.”

“Rocky Splendor.”

Spencer laughs hard, and it’s a long time before he can form words. “You’re not!”

“Armando just took his lover to the lighthouse and a storm is about to come in,” Luke recounts.

Spencer groans, “Oh, no, not the storm scene…”

“I miss you,” Luke says, and it’s a dramatic change of subject but the feeling is pretty powerful right now.

“I miss you, too,” Spencer sounds a bit surprised. “Never before have I ached for someone the moment I turned away.”

Luke has to shut his eyes tight at those words. He can’t let any other sense interfere with his hearing as his brain records the moment. “Maybe you could store some of your books here.”

“With your romance novels?”

Luke snorts, “Yeah, with those.”

“Maybe I can get a couple bowls for Roxy. You’ll have to show me what food to buy, though. It seems… involved.”

“Yeah, it is,” Luke admits. “I can do that.”

A quiet moment settles over them as they feel their relationship shift.

“We’re going to see each other in nine hours and twenty-seven minutes.”

“Yeah,” Luke can’t help but chuckle at the numerical precision. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for all the positive response this story has gotten! I enjoy writing, but knowing that others like this story makes the process amazing.


	18. Black Mesh and Kevlar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty vague about when in the year this story is taking place because I frankly hadn't decided, but now I have. It's October. This will be relevant later.

The unsub is Frederick Burkman, an injustice collector with an impressive stash of firearms. He starts as just a suspect. Luke and Spencer go to question him with a pair of local police officers, knocking on his door with caution. Then there’s a click inside, and Spencer shouts, “Gun!” and buckshot tears through the door. They dodge, the four of them getting out of the way in time to avoid injury, and Frederick Burkman is on the run.

“Around back!” Luke shouts, leading a LEO around the building as Spencer and the other officer rush around the other side. The homestead is a veritable complex, with a workshop and a detached garage that provide too many potential hiding spots for their shooter. 

Luke gets to the backyard first, eyes peeled for any movement like a hunter stalking its prey. A gunshot rings out, this time from a rifle. The cop behind him dives for cover against the side of the workshop. Luke dives as well, but he’s too far to seek the same shelter, instead rolling into the shade behind a small shed. He silences his breath, listening to footsteps in the grass come steadily closer. He has his gun ready, but he lacks the element of surprise. Burkman has the upper hand. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Spencer quickly pop his head around the corner of the garage. Luke sends him a silent message with his mind, willing him to stay hidden, stay safe. But then, to his horror, Spencer jumps fully into view, gun drawn, and shouts, “FBI, lower your weapon!”

Luke can hear Burkman turn at the new target, toward _Spencer,_ and Luke leaps, twisting into the air toward the killer. Before he can take him down, Burkman gets off a shot, but then Luke has him tackled, gun free of his clutches. 

“You good?” Luke shouts at Spencer. There’s no answer. His gut twists. He can’t look away from Burkman until he’s secured, and, god, he needs to look. Burkman struggles against Luke’s grasp, but without his arsenal he’s no match. Luke clicks cuffs on him, behind his back, rendering him harmless.

He finally gets a glance toward Spencer, and Spencer isn’t moving. He’s just lying there, where he fell. “Reid!” There’s no response. Luke can’t breathe. 

The officers come around the workshop. “Take him!” Luke orders them, and he leaves Burkman a bit too soon but the LEOs quickly have him covered. “Call for medics! My partner is down!” They get on their radios and Luke is already halfway to Spencer’s prone form.

He drops to his knees beside him just as Spencer takes in a ragged breath. He coughs it all out, then sucks in again greedily. Luke feels all the air leave his lungs, as well, and when he gasps in air it sounds like a sob. His eyes rake over his partner, his love, and find a lead circle marring the black mesh and kevlar. “You’re good! The vest caught it.” He squeezes Spencer’s shoulder to reassure him, and to feel him alive in his hands.

Spencer nods, trying to reassure Luke, but he’s still wheezing and when he coughs he winces.

“Here, let’s get this off of you.” Luke tugs at straps, removing the armor that just saved Spencer’s life. He keeps going, unbuttoning his shirt to see the damage to his body. There’s already an angry bruise forming, a dark red circle where the bullet impacted, and a blooming rose color surrounding where blood vessels burst. Luke sighs, resisting the urge to touch because he doesn’t want to hurt. “Going for the hat trick? Trying to get that third bullet wound? I told you, you’re already Doctor Badass.”

Spencer can’t laugh, he’d likely burst, but he gives him a pained smile.

Luke’s cell rings and he answers it without checking, not wanting to take his eyes off Spencer for even a second, “Alvez.”

“I heard the call on the radio,” Prentiss’ voice is professional, but there’s an undercurrent of panic. “Is he hurt?”

“He took one to the vest. He’s awake, and the paramedics should be here soon.”

Prentiss lets out a shaky breath and Luke remembers that before she was the boss, she was Spencer’s friend. “Are you staying with him?”

“Yeah, the locals are bringing Burkman into the station and I’m gonna wait with Reid, go with him to the hospital if he needs it.”

“All right, keep me updated.” Still processing her relief, she hangs up before Luke responds.

“Prentiss?” Spencer’s voice is tight.

“Yeah, just checking up on her favorite agent.” Luke gives Spencer’s cheek a light pat.

Spencer smiles at that. He grabs Luke’s hand and squeezes, then shuts his eyes as he focuses on breathing in a way that doesn’t hurt.

A wailing siren announces the arrival of the ambulance, and a paramedic rushes toward them before the vehicle is even parked, yanking on gloves, “What do we got here?”

“Bullet to the vest. Bruising on the ribs.” Luke reports succinctly.

The paramedic nods as she processes the information, dropping down to where Spencer is still laid out, and prods gently with skilled fingers. “There’s no obvious breaks, but you’ll want to get this x-rayed to check for fractures.” She tilts her head back toward the ambulance, where her partner is dragging out a stretcher, “Want a ride?”

Through the pain swimming in his eyes, Spencer sends Luke a plea, “I don’t need an ambulance.”

“I’ll get him there,” Luke vows to the paramedic.

“All right,” she replies easily, used to law enforcement refusing the ride in the woo-woo-mobile. She tells her partner to pack it in and they’re off to save another life.

Luke helps Spencer sit up, but the genius still grunts in pain, wrapping an arm protectively over his injury. Luke throws Spencer’s other arm over his shoulder, “Ready to stand, or you wanna sit for a minute?”

With a stubborn shake of his head, he starts to lift himself, “Let’s get out of here.” Spencer leans heavily on Luke, but Luke shows no sign of discomfort; he would carry this man to the ends of the Earth if need be, so acting as a crutch for the trip to the SUV is nothing. 

An x-ray proves his ribs aren’t broken, only bruised, and he’s cleared to fly and work light duty provided he takes extra care of his ribs. Spencer grumbles privately to Luke that he could have come up with that diagnosis on his own, which Luke decides is just the pain talking.

He’s given an ice-pack, but the second it’s pressed against his bruise he hisses and flinches away. The ice-pack is dropped in his hand with the recommendation that he apply it properly once he’s taken pain medication.

The doctor is just about wrapped up when Luke steps out to call the team with the update.

Prentiss answers, the phone already on speaker, “How’s he doing?”

“Nothing’s broken. After we get his prescription filled, we’re heading out. He’s good to fly, and he’ll just have to be strapped to a desk for the next two or three weeks while his bruises heal.”

There’s a cacophony of various noises of approval from the team, then Prentiss drowns them out, “Well, the jet’s ready and we’re all out in the waiting room, so we’ll see you soon.”

Spencer carefully checks the label on the small orange bottle as soon as the hospital pharmacist hands it to him, then dry swallows two pills. He’s able to walk on his own now, his body adjusting to it’s new pain, but his gait is noticeably slowed. When they reach the waiting room, sure enough, the team is there and ready to fawn over their resident genius. Rossi gives his cheek a paternal pat, JJ levels him with the disapproving look of an exasperated older sister before rubbing his arms comfortingly, and Garcia looks positively distressed at not being able to wrap him in a hug and settles for a kiss to his cheek. Not prone to such outbursts, Tara and Matt just send him smiles.

“Thanks, guys,” Spencer’s return smile is an appropriate mixture of gratitude and sheepishness at having worried them.

On the jet, Spencer lays himself out on the couch, finding more comfort in a horizontal position than propped up in a chair, and cuddles the ice pack against his ribs like a beloved teddy bear. Prentiss takes the nearest seat to watch over him.

Luke feels a bit put out, not that he can express that. He can’t exactly announce he’s now Spencer’s protector, Spencer’s person that loves him and does what’s best for him. They’ve all played the role of protector for each other over the years, it’s what it means to be on this team. ...But Luke wants to be recognized by the group, to be allowed to tend to Spencer now in front of them. And there’s also a part of him that would appreciate being comforted as someone who saw his lover get shot, not just as someone who had a tough go on an arrest.

He sits across from Prentiss, still able to keep an eye on Spencer, still able to show him he’s here for him. He gets an occasional smile from him now that painkillers are coursing through his veins, though Spencer’s tired eyes mostly just stare at the ceiling. 

When they land, JJ comes straight for Spencer, “Come on, Spence. You got shot today, I’m not letting you take the train home. I’ll drive you.”

Luke feels put out again, watching someone come between Spencer and him when he really needs to be close to him, to hold him, to process together their terrifying moment. He’s struggling to keep on that professional mask, the expression of indifference at how Spencer might be getting home and who might be with him.

Spencer grips the railing tight as he gingerly descends the jet stairs. Luke follows close, hands hovering in case he has to catch him, but they make it to the ground safely, Spencer’s dignity intact.

Prentiss announces that they’ve had enough for one day and that reports can wait until the morning, and they all head for their respective vehicles in the small FBI airport parking lot.

“Hey, Luke,” JJ calls from where she’s leading Spencer, “you walk home, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, I do.”

She nods her head in invitation, “Well, since I’m already giving out rides, want one?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks!” He tries to mitigate his enthusiasm. This is just supposed to look like a ride home, not an opportunity for Luke to stick by Spencer’s side and stay with him all night and watch him breathe and make sure he’s okay… He tries to mitigate his enthusiasm but he has no idea if he succeeds.

JJ fully reclines the passenger seat before buckling Spencer in, and Luke sits behind JJ so he can watch Spencer doze in and out through the nighttime traffic.

“It’d probably be best if someone stayed with him tonight, at least helped him up the stairs to his apartment. Would you mind?” JJ asks nonchalantly, and the woman could teach a Master’s Class on Plausible Deniability. 

“Yeah, I’ve got him,” Luke responds casually but his hand has somehow started petting Spencer’s hair so he probably doesn’t pull it off.

JJ pulls up to Spencer’s building. Luke tosses both their bags over one shoulder and runs around to the passenger door to support Spencer as he rises from his seat. Spencer groans, clutching over his soreness.

“Where are your pills?” Luke pats Spencer’s pockets, finding them and giving them an enticing shake, “Want to take a few before we climb up those stairs?”

“I have to wait another 73 minutes,” Spencer shakes his head. He drops his feet to the curb and falls against Luke, leaning into his chest. 

Luke holds him against him, feeling his heartbeat against his chest and taking a moment to appreciate that. Then he calls out, “Thanks, JJ!” and closes her car door. Spencer’s thanks is mumbled into his shirt. JJ doesn’t drive off until she sees them get inside the building.

The climb upstairs is slow. Spencer is both tired and in pain, and Luke isn’t pushing him. Luke is encouraging, rubbing circles in Spencer’s back, hoping the touch can distract some from the pain. 

When they finally reach Spencer’s home, Luke leads him straight to bed. He piles the pillows to keep him propped up, and sits Spencer on the edge of the mattress. “Let’s get you in comfier clothes, huh?”

Spencer’s response is a sleepy hum and a nod.

Luke pulls Spencer’s sleepwear from his go-bag. He carefully extracts Spencer’s stiff work clothing and slides the soft cotton in its place. He gets Spencer comfortable against the pillows, a blanket up to his waist, and waves the warmed ice-pack, “I’m gonna replace this.” The spent pack gets tossed in the freezer and behind the frozen peas Luke locates an old school ice bag, blue rubber with a plastic screw cap, already filled with frostbitten ice cubes. He also brings a glass of water because it has to be less than an hour before he can take more painkillers, and Spencer seems to already be suffering too much. Luke slides the pill bottle out of his own pocket to double-check the instructions and frowns. “Hey, these are just extra strength Tylenol.”

Spencer hums.

“You should be on something much stronger, no wonder you’re still in pain! Bruised ribs are at least worth Codeine. I’m calling that doctor back for a better prescription, this is ridiculous-”

Spencer’s hand on his arm stops Luke enough for Luke to see Spencer shaking his head. “It was my decision. I don’t take narcotics, Luke.” He sighs, those two sentences taking a lot out of him.

This triggers a memory for Luke, of Mexico, and Reid drugged out of his mind, and hearing a story about a man with Dissociative Identity Disorder, Tobias Hankel, who also drugged him with an opiate, and Luke doesn’t press the issue. He moves the ice bag, holding most of its weight so it practically hovers over Spencer’s darkening bruise. “Okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You want me to wake you when it’s time for your next pills?”

“M’not gonna sleep. M’tired but it still hurts.” His voice is groggy, like he’s straddling two planes of consciousness and comfortable in neither.

“Okay. I’m just gonna hold this here, okay?” He lets the ice bag droop, applying more cold to Spencer’s clothed skin, and just gets another hum in response. With his free hand, he delicately traces Spencer’s hairline, damp with sweat as his body attempts to leak out the ache. “You know I love you, right?”

Even though his face is pinched in pain, Spencer manages a genuine smile, “Love you.”

Spencer truly can’t sleep through the discomfort, even when new pills are administered, so Luke stays up with him, holding the ice bag against him in fifteen minute intervals. To help Spencer’s mind focus away from that bruise, he touches. He combs his fingers through Spencer’s hair. He caresses Spencer’s cheeks. He gently drags his thumb along Spencer’s brow. He softly massages Spencer’s shoulders, stroking fingers down his arms. 

They’re exhausted by morning light, but they’re together, and that’s all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and telling me what you think. It is so touching, making this connection through fandom and kind of baring my soul to have it well-received. It's also the most social thing I've got going right now ;-)


	19. Hot and Cold

“Would you like some breakfast?” Luke asks, because one benefit to getting exactly zero sleep is that you have a nice long morning.

“Yes!” Spencer replies quickly, surprised to remember he has biological needs beyond healing his ribs. “Thank you, I don’t even remember when we last ate.”

“And I’m pretty sure the food was coffee.” Luke presses a kiss to Spencer’s temple before rising from the bed. “You stay here. I’m gonna get you a fresh ice pack first.” When he returns, he lays the hospital-issued frozen gel pack on the comforter. “Can I check the bruise?” He only has rudimentary medical training, but there’s a need in him to see with his own eyes that Spencer is healing. Spencer seems to understand because he just nods. 

Luke gently unfastens each button, avoiding any pressure against his torso, and lays Spencer’s chest bare. The bruise is darkening, purple in the center, and Luke frowns. There’s nothing he can do. Even the doctor said all that would fix this is time. Time and apparently Tylenol…

Spencer rests a hand on Luke’s wrist and Luke realizes he’s being comforted. He’s being comforted by the injured party. He leans forward and brushes a soft kiss against Spencer’s temple, then buttons him back up, “It looks a lot better when it’s covered up.”

Spencer gets out the smallest chuckle before grimacing, “Save your jokes for when they don’t hurt?”

Luke winces in sympathy, “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you with food.”

Spencer has, thankfully, replaced his groceries since Luke last rummaged around the fridge, and his cupboard is impressively stocked, as well. Luke finds pancake mix. Luke’s cooking skills may only be one step above burning down a kitchen, but he can make pancakes, and since Spencer owns the mix and has a bottle of real maple syrup, he clearly likes pancakes.

He makes a triple stack for them each, slathered in butter and sticky with syrup.

“Pancakes!” Spencer cheers, watching hungrily as his plate floats toward him. “You made pancakes!”

“I did! Now how do you want to do this? I brought a spoon to prevent drips.”

“Just put it in my lap? I’m so hungry.”

Luke laughs, gently setting the plate on Spencer’s thighs, “Good?”

“Yes, thank you!” He scoops up a fluffy bite and moans, “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Luke bites into what he knows are average pancakes, but in this moment, they are indeed exquisite.

Spencer closes his eyes around his second bite, letting it melt against his tongue. “So good. You’re the best boyfriend.”

Something wonderful jolts through Luke’s core at the term. Boyfriend. It’s sweet and loving and implies devotion and _it’s how Spencer thinks of him._ Luke can feel the wide smile fill his face and he probably looks goofy but he can’t care because _he’s Spencer’s boyfriend._ He wants to tell Spencer how special that makes him feel but the words aren’t forming in his mind so there’s no way they’ll come out of his mouth, so he just goes with what does come out, “That’s just because I’m _your_ boyfriend.” Judging by the bright smile Spencer responds with, it’s enough. Luke leans forward for a maple-sweetened kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Spencer nuzzles his cheek against Luke’s, and then their stomachs force them to return to their meals. 

Empty plates safely deposited in the sink to soak and ice pack tossed back in the freezer, Luke returns to help Spencer gingerly rise from the bed. Spencer groans, a bit wobbly on his feet, and Luke keeps a hand on his arm to steady him.

Spencer lifts a miserable face to Luke’s and pouts, “This sucks.”

Laughter springs from Luke before he can stop it, surprised at such a phrase from a normally eloquent man. 

“Don’t laugh,” Spencer grumbles, but then he’s also smiling, barely containing a chuckle.

Luke squeezes where he’s still bracing Spencer’s arm, “It was an ‘I’m Happy You’re Alive’ laugh. Promise.”

Spencer just nods, lacking the energy for even a playful fight, and breaks away to plant himself in front of the bathroom sink. He lifts his toothbrush, whimpering slightly as his arm rises above his chest, then powers through the required dental cleaning.

“Are you up for a shower?” Luke asks, passing him to start up the water.

“Mmm-hmm,” Spencer mumbles around his toothbrush. He leans forward just enough to spit in the sink, “That would be heavenly.”

Luke helps him out of his pyjamas then sheds his own before guiding Spencer under the spray. He picks up the detachable showerhead and wets Spencer’s hair, letting the water rush down his neck and back, then slides the head back into place to pick up a shampoo bottle. He massages the lather into Spencer’s hair and feels Spencer’s relaxed sigh against his neck. 

He kisses Spencer’s cheek, because Spencer is not just an item to be cleaned but a person, Luke’s _boyfriend,_ and Luke wants to make sure Spencer knows he remembers that. Spencer tilts back his head as Luke rinses his hair, eyes closed and face peaceful. 

Shower gel is poured onto a washcloth and vigorously rubbed together until it’s nice and sudsy, and Luke glides it gently over Spencer’s skin. He squeezes it out over Spencer’s chest, letting the soapy water cascade over the bruise to clean it without adding pressure to the wound, and Spencer hums his thanks. 

With a very slow spin, Luke steps under the water and washes with military speed. Shutting off the shower, Luke reaches through the curtain to grab a towel. He lays it around Spencer’s shoulders to stave off the cold. “How are you feeling?”

“So much better.” Spencer slowly stretches his warmth-loosened muscles. “You’re wonderful.”

“I’m the best boyfriend,” Luke reminds him with a twinkle in his eye.

They drip dry in the tub for a moment. Luke presses the towel into Spencer’s skin to wick away moisture before grabbing himself a towel for a cursory dry-off. 

Steam is clinging warmly to the air in the bathroom. Luke rubs Spencer’s towel into his hair, transforming his locks from sopping to damp, then slides his fingers in. “Let’s see, I have to style this just right…” He flings his fingers about, messily tossing curls, ensuring those bangs dance over Spencer’s forehead just above his eyes. “Perfect!”

Spencer watches him, bemused, “I know you’re kidding, but that’s essentially how I do it.”

Luke helps Spencer dress. He sits him back on the mattress to rest while he holds up a couple shirts for him to choose from, then selects the suit that matches best. He adds his favorite of Spencer’s ties, a thin lavender strip of silk with white dots that brings out something magical in the hazel of Spencer’s eyes. He adorns Spencer gently, his touches tender and loving comforts amidst Spencer’s aches and vulnerability. Luke kisses him, letting his lips linger as he slides his fingers into his hair. “You look good.”

Spencer’s smile is soft, “Thank you for doing all this for me.”

“Thank you for letting me.” He gives another quick peck before turning toward the dresser, “So, are you particular about the mismatched socks, or do you just grab at random?”

“It’s random.”

Luke plucks two socks, one red with Christmas trees and one solid blue, and slides them on Spencer’s feet, then adds a pair of Oxfords. He double knots them so a loose lace is one less thing Spencer has to worry about. “I have to get myself ready. Are you comfy enough?”

“Mm-hm,” Spencer is still smiling under Luke’s care. Luke caresses his cheek fondly and kisses him. 

Luke quickly sorts himself and throws on the outfit from his go-bag, then he’s ready to take them to work. He grabs Spencer’s painkillers, nearly forgotten on the nightstand, and slides them into Spencer’s pocket for easy access. Both of their bags tossed over his shoulder, he lifts Spencer to his feet and they head out the door.

Luke hails them a cab, helping Spencer slide in, and when Luke gets dropped off first at his apartment, he hands more than enough cash to the driver to get Spencer the rest of the way to work. He sets Spencer’s bag on the seat beside him and they lean together for a quick goodbye kiss before Luke rushes upstairs.

He knocks on Janie’s door, inspiring a chorus of barks from inside, and his faithful dog-sitter opens up with a smile, “Hey, Luke! I put Roxy back in your apartment after our morning walk.” Behind a safety gate, seven neighborhood dogs wag excitedly at him. Two are Janie’s, a few are being boarded with her for a week or so, and the rest are there during work hours. 

Luke started out his business relationship with Janie grateful to have a dog-sitter in his building, but since learning how much money she makes, he’s become mostly just impressed. Today, though, he’s grateful again. “Thank you so much, Janie. You’re the best. Seriously, the best.”

Janie frowns, concerned, “Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna cry.”

“Do I?” Luke is genuinely surprised at that. “Oh, I… My boyfriend was shot yesterday.” He sees Janie’s eyes pop out in horror, so he quickly explains, “He was wearing a bulletproof vest, so he wasn’t hurt too badly, but.. but he’s hurting. And it was… It was really scary.” He’s confessing in the hallway, pouring out the words he’s needed to say for _hours_ now to his poor unsuspecting dog-sitter.

“Would you like a hug?” Janie offers, arms already extended in invitation.

He nods vigorously, breath catching in his throat, “Yes, please.”

Janie steps forward, wrapping her arms around him and laying her cheek against his chest.

Luke squeezes her back, “You’re so great with Roxy. I couldn’t do my job without you watching her, you know. I couldn’t do any of this.”

“Oh, honey, do you want to come in for a minute?”

Luke takes a deep breath, clears his throat, and shoves his emotions deeper, “Actually, I have to go to work.”

“Okay,” Janie steps back, sliding her hands up and down Luke’s arms before disconnecting. “Just text me if you need me to check in on Roxy. Or anything else.”

“I will, thank you.” He needs to repeat it, needs her to hear how much he means it, _“Thank you.”_

Janie smiles at him. There’s still concern in her eyes, but Luke will have to soothe that later. 

He rushes into his apartment to check in on his dog and Roxy is excited to see him, tail wagging and paws dancing against the hardwood. She gets two cookies because she’s just such a good girl and Luke is so lucky to have her.

Thanks to his car, Luke arrives at work on time. His eyes automatically find Spencer, seated at his desk surrounded by JJ, Garcia, and Rossi. He joins the gaggle, giving Spencer a chin-jutting bro greeting, “How are you feeling, Reid?”

“Like I was punched in the chest by a bullet.” Spencer winces, squirming as he tries to find a comfortable position in his chair.

Luke frowns sympathetically. “You got your painkillers?” is said as a reminder, just in case Spencer forgot to take a dose.

“I took them twelve minutes ago. I’m in the unfortunate window where I’ve metabolized the previous dose and the current pills have yet to take effect.” Spencer looks around at the worried eyes on him and forces a smile, “I’m fine. Bruises heal. The pain becomes more manageable every day and as soon as I’m off the Acetaminophen I’ll be able to drink coffee again.” That last bit probably earns him the most sympathy. Garcia pets his hair affectionately and they all split to their work stations.

Luke keeps an eye on Spencer as he starts typing up his report from yesterday’s case. It isn’t fun, recounting the moments leading up to watching his boyfriend get gunned down, and he tries to get through it quickly, but then details start to nag at him. Why did he shout at Burkman? Why didn’t he keep his cover? Why didn’t he shoot? Luke only lets these questions bounce around his mind for a moment. There will be time to ask Spencer about it later, but for now he just writes up the incident report as by the book.

A case comes in, not through the usual channels, but in a phone call to Prentiss from one of her police contacts in San Diego. She leans against the banister, making a stage of the raised platform her office is on, and explains to the team, “Three bodies have been found in the past week, all prostitutes, all mutilated in the same way. We’ll brief on the plane. Wheels up in twenty.”

Everyone gets into gear. Spencer rises from his chair, hisses in pain, and drops back down just to hiss again.

“Reid, you can work this one from here,” Prentiss doesn’t miss a beat. “Help Garcia with victimology and work up a geographical profile.”

He nods, grateful.

Luke catches his eye, sending a nearly imperceptible nod of encouragement and receiving one in turn, and then they’re off. The traveling team piles into two bureau-issued SUVs, Prentiss and JJ driving, and the jet is readied in transit. They park next to each other, and Prentiss fills in more details on the walk to the waiting plane. She guides them up the airstair amidst descriptions of knife wounds and dumpsites when her phone rings. She answers it quickly, “Detective Wright, has there been another-” She freezes at the top step, blocking the doorway. “You’re kidding me. No, that’s- I mean, that’s fantastic… No, no, congratulations, it’s no problem… Yes, of course.” She hangs up, stalls a beat, then spins to face her team stacked upon the steps below her. “You’re not going to believe this, but they found their killer. He was pulled over for a traffic violation with a body in his back seat. Same MO.”

Nobody moves, confusion slowing the transition from Catch A Killer mode.

Prentiss recovers first. “I’ll go tell the pilot,” she finally ducks through the doorway.

Luke was bringing up the rear, so he steps down to the tarmac to let the rest of the team descend after him. “I’m still pretty new here. Does this happen often?”

“Not once!” There’s a hint of laughter in JJ’s voice.

“So, let me get this straight,” Tara’s face pinches as she tries to understand the behavior. “The unsub had a body in the back seat and he just… pulled over?”

Matt follows up with, “Is it possible they’re getting dumber?”

“No, there’ll always be that one.” Rossi shakes his head. “We caught one guy after he dropped his cell phone under the body. We didn’t have to trace it back to him. The jag-off came back for it.”

They erupt into laughter at that just in time for Prentiss to join them with, “Who wants pizza?”

Pizza in hand, they return to the office to an interesting scene. Spencer is laid across his desk, propped up against a cushion from the couch in Garcia’s office. Elbow resting on a row of books, he’s aiming a laser pointer at a large map of San Diego pinned to an evidence board, where Garcia is hopping up in her wedges to stick Post-It flags in specific colors where he’s pointing.

Garcia’s face lights up when she spots them coming through the double doors, always overjoyed to see her family, but then her head cocks to the side when she realizes she shouldn’t actually _be_ seeing them yet. Spencer has a more difficult time getting his eyes on them, twisting his neck and pressing his cheek into the cushion before it finally happens, “Oh, hey!”

“They caught the guy. But we have pizza,” Prentiss summarizes, dropping the two large boxes on a nearby desk and trudging up to her office to explain this to the unforgiving budget oversight committee.

Luke walks up to his boyfriend, taking in his setup with a frown, “Do you need to go home?”

“You know, I might,” he nods, discomfort evident in his expression. “Just for the day.”

“I drove in today. I’ll give you a ride.” Luke turns to the rest of the team, surrounding the pizza boxes, and lets them know, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“We’ll call you if there’s a case,” Rossi waves him off. “Just don’t let the kid fall.”

“You hear that?” Luke goes around the desk to Spencer’s good side to help him stand, “If I don’t drop you, we get a half day off.”

“Yippee,” Spencer deadpans. He grunts a few times getting to his feet and Luke is already planning on getting another ice pack to that bruise. 

Luke grabs Spencer’s bag, sliding it onto his shoulder next to his own, “Got your pills?”

Spencer pats his pocket and when they can both hear the small hard objects crashing against each other Spencer nods.

“Can you walk on your own? Or do you need to lean on me?”

Spencer thinks it over, brows furrowed, “I think I’m good for now.” They make it to the elevator, followed by waves and pepperoni-filled farewells, and when the doors slide closed Spencer leans heavily into Luke’s side. “I may need help.”

“I’ve got you,” Luke ducks, getting Spencer’s arm over his shoulder. “We’re gonna ice it again, maybe alternate with heat.”

Spencer closes his eyes and hums happily at the prospect. 

Luke gets him secured in the passenger seat before sliding in behind the steering wheel, “You have a preference between your place and mine?”

“Your place is closer.”

“Mine it is.” They park in the underground garage, which means an extra set of stairs to climb. “Were we both idiots for choosing buildings without elevators?” 

“There are six elevator-related deaths per year, not to mention 10,000 injuries requiring hospitalization,” Spencer rattles off, then has to grip the handrail and stop. The exertion is making him breathe heavier, which is extremely unkind to his ribs.

Luke gently rubs his back through it, thinking those elevator odds don’t seem so bad just now. They reach Luke’s floor and Spencer celebrates by taking a short break against the wall. 

Finally inside the apartment, Roxy watches with a nervous wag as Spencer is half-carried through the living room, “Bed or couch?”

“Chair, please.”

Luke lowers him into the leather seat and Spencer sighs. “Ice pack,” Luke immediately runs to his freezer. Thankfully, with his love for rough activity, he has plenty of frozen gel packs to share. When he returns Roxy is seated just below Spencer’s arm, getting gentle pets to her head. “She’s worried about you.”

“I’ll be okay, Roxy.” Spencer reassures, though his pets are doing a better job of communicating with her.

“Let’s get that jacket off and see how you’re doing.” Luke helps slide the suit along his arms, laying it on the coffee table before unbuttoning Spencer’s shirt. The bruise is fully purple now, still darkest at the center. Every time Luke sees it it looks more painful. His fingertips softly glide across the unblemished skin surrounding the wound, before he presses a kiss over Spencer’s heart. 

Supporting his elbow on the armrest, Spencer reaches forward and runs his hand along Luke’s back, loosely holding him. Luke is hunched over a bit awkwardly, but he stays still, close, until that hand falls away. 

With a kiss to Spencer’s lips, Luke sits back on his knees, “I’m gonna get you a shirt so we can press the ice pack to it. And in twenty minutes, we’ll get my heating pad, which should help.”

“Thank you.” There’s the slightest hint of pain in Spencer’s voice, so Luke hurries. He comes back with a white cotton T that fits loosely over Spencer’s slim torso, and said heating pad, which he plugs in to warm up. Luke gently presses the ice pack over Spencer’s bruise, and Spencer’s hand comes up to hold it. “I’ve got it,” Spencer smiles.

In an hour, they’ve gone through two rounds of cold and heat, and Spencer is noticeably improved. He isn’t holding himself as stiffly, isn’t wincing and breathing funny. If he’s quite still, it’s more of a dull ache than a throbbing pain. He’s well enough for a bowl of tom yum soup Luke ordered a few nights ago.

Luke sets the empty bowl on the coffee table and looks up at Spencer’s blessedly relaxed features. Those questions he had earlier about the case come nagging back. Now seems as good a time as any to bring them up. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Spencer’s brows raise in interest.

“Yesterday, with Burkman, you didn’t take a shot. Did you?”

Spencer’s eyes are still a bit dazed when he shakes his head.

“Why didn’t you? I saw you get your bearings, your gun was drawn...”

“At 150 yards I only have 93% accuracy and you were downwind of the target.”

Luke’s face scrunches as he tries to make that square peg of a response fit in the round hole of his mind. He was at least six feet away from Burkman when Spencer made his move, well outside the target zone at that distance. “What?”

Spencer blinks his eyes into focus and tries again, “At 150 yards I only have 93-”

“No, I heard that. I just don’t understand.”

“I couldn’t take the risk,” comes out of Spencer’s mouth like it’s obvious.

“The risk? 93% is pretty good.”

 _“You were downwind,”_ Spencer repeats with emphasis. “I couldn’t take the risk.”

“What, you thought the bullet would miss him and magically wind up between my eyes?” Luke shoots off sharply, his voice raising an octave.

Spencer’s tight-lipped frown is enough of an affirmative.

“Really?” Luke stops himself from going down that path because it is bumpy. “Okay, so you didn’t want to shoot him. Why did you have your gun drawn?”

“Why are you interrogating me?”

Luke throws his arms into the air, “Interrogating? Spencer, you got shot!”

“My vest got shot.”

“You got lucky. And you’re still out of commission for weeks. Why did you have your gun drawn?”

“He was going to shoot you!” 

“And what was your plan? Get shot instead?”

“I had to distract him.”

“By jumping in front of a bullet.”

“I didn’t _jump in front of a bullet.”_

“No, you just shouted at the bullet to come to you.”

“I shouted ‘FBI, lower your weapon,’” Spencer defends himself.

“Why? Why did you say that?”

“Protocol dictates we identify ourselves-”

“We did. At the door, before he shot at us. Protocol then dictated we prioritize neutralizing the threat. He was an injustice collector. You helped write the profile; you knew he wasn’t going to drop his weapon.”

“I’ve talked down an injustice collector before-”

“Yeah? By pointing your gun at him and yelling?”

“Why are you angry at me? Stop questioning me like I’m a criminal. I made a calculated risk.”

“You were reckless! You sacrificed cover, refused to take the shot, and made yourself a threat so you knew he’d target you.”

“What did you expect me to do? You were pinned down. He was going to shoot you! What was _your_ plan?”

Luke leans back. He feels how heated his face is, knows this got out of hand, escalated far too quickly to control, but he can’t let this go. “What’s my IQ?”

“What?” Spencer is caught off guard.

“My IQ. What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nobody knows. I’ve never even had it tested. Because it doesn’t matter. I know your IQ. It’s one hundred and eighty-seven. Everyone knows it. It’s in your file, it’s in newspaper articles written about you, Garcia even uses it as one of your nicknames. I’m Army. That means grunt, as in I take the bullet. Not you. Me.”

“No, Luke. We’re a team. We all protect each other, and as pissed off as I am right now, I will always protect you, because I don’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

“We’ve only known each other a year,” the words fall from Luke’s lips without much thought, but the instantaneous devastation they put on Spencer’s face makes him really hear them, how callous they are, and he quickly tries to cover them with more words to bury them deep and unseen. “You’re one of the most important people to ever join the BAU. The team functioned fine before me, it will be just as fine after I’m gone, but it was falling apart without you. You’re it’s god-damn life blood.”

The pile of words isn’t working, that devastation still twisting Spencer’s features. He takes in a shaky breath, a tremble ricocheting through his body. Hands on the armrests, he shoves himself out of the chair, crying out at the pain it causes his ribs, clutching at them protectively. Luke wants to go to him, support him, but Spencer is storming off. He doesn’t go for the front door, though. He carries himself stiffly into the bedroom and then shuts the door softly because no matter how angry Spencer is he doesn’t slam doors.

“Shit,” Luke whispers, dragging his fingers roughly through his hair. He just couldn’t leave it alone. He had to poke the bloated issue with a stick and now it’s exploded and putrid all over the two of them. 

Roxy whimpers outside the closed bedroom door, turning a questioning look at Luke.

“He just needs a little time, Girl,” Luke tells her, trying to smile, and he’s surprised to hear how emotionally wrecked his voice has become. She doesn’t understand, whining again, so Luke rises and pats his legs to call her over, scratching her ears. She just keeps looking between him and that door.

It is at this stupidly unfortunate moment that Luke realizes he has to pee. Urgently. And Spencer is in the room with the only bathroom. He considers knocking, but Spencer clearly needs privacy and Luke is going to respect that. He’s not peeing in his sink, doesn’t even let the thought fully form. He’s using his neighbor’s toilet. Luke walks out in the hall, shutting Roxy inside, and knocks on the next door over. It opens immediately. 

“Mrs. Adamu, I’m sorry-” Luke starts

“What are you doing here?” She sounds so angry Luke takes a step back.

“I…”

“You can’t leave in the middle of that. Go back to him and fix this.”

Luke closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Of course she heard. Of course she’s _been listening._ “Mrs. Adamu, I just need to use the bathroom.”

She searches him, for what he doesn’t know, before stepping aside, “Go ahead, then. Through that door, on the right.” Their apartment layouts are identical.

“Thank you,” he gets out, his bladder making it sincere. 

When he comes back out, she’s clearly judging him, eyebrow crooked and arms folded over her chest. “Now you go back over there and you tell him you’re wrong and you’re sorry.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not that simple.”

She rolls her eyes skyward, shaking her head like she and God are having a mutual understanding of how hopeless Luke is. “Luke Alvez, your skull is thicker than these walls.”

“Stop listening, then.”

“Mmm-hmm. Stop yelling.”

Well, she has him there. “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, Mrs. Adamu.” He lets himself out.

When Luke re-enters his home he finds Spencer, head in hands, looking absolutely distraught. He looks up at the sound of the door, eyes crinkling slightly in confusion. “I thought you left.”

It’s a punch to Luke’s gut and he swallows it down. “I had to pee. And you were in there, so I just bothered a neighbor.”

Spencer nods, just once, and then his face pinches again, “Why did you say that?”

Luke doesn’t have to ask what he means. He’ll always remember the moment his callous words, _we’ve only known each other a year,_ put that pain in Spencer’s eyes. “Because I was scared,” his voice is tight and he doesn’t fight the tears. “I was scared and I messed up. I’ve been scared since I saw you lying there and I didn’t know if you were alive, and knowing that you did that on purpose…”

Spencer’s voice is quiet, small, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You did, though!” Luke catches his raised voice and swallows, trying again quieter. “You did, or you wouldn’t have aimed your weapon without firing, you wouldn’t have shouted to get his attention. You knew what you were doing.”

Spencer’s nose twitches and his eyes are glued to the hardwood. He’s not denying it.

“You should have taken the shot.”

“I couldn’t risk it.”

“You wouldn’t have hit me. You know you wouldn’t have hit me. Spencer, look at me.”

Spencer’s brow furrows and he worries his lip, but he’s not looking up.

“Spencer, you wouldn’t have hit me,” Luke tries again. “Intellectually you know that, you _knew_ that. You just let fear get in the way.”

A tear slides down Spencer’s cheekbone, dropping to the ground. His breath hitches, “I thought you left.”

“I didn’t leave. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.” He wants to reach out, wants to touch, but he needs a sign first that he still has permission.

“You said…” Spencer stops there, can’t bring himself to repeat Luke’s words. His arms twitch, desperate to wrap around him protectively but his injury prevents it.

“I know, I was an ass. Thinking that what you and I have might be what gets you hurt? I panicked. I said something stupid and wrong. I’m sorry I made it sound like this isn’t important, because, Spencer, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Luke swallows hard, tears making a mess of his face. It’s horrible to be the reason your loved one is hurting.

“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Spencer shakes his head, banishing the thought.

“But you _did_ get hurt. And it could have been so much worse. Do you have any idea how much losing you would have killed me?”

“Yes.” When Spencer finally makes eye contact it’s to level a glare. “It was that fear that made me do what I did, and I know _exactly_ how it feels. Someone I love was shot dead in front of me because I failed to save her, so even though I was hurt, and I _know_ I was lucky it was only bruised ribs, and even though you’re angry with me, I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I won’t let that happen again. Not to you.” 

Luke sighs heavily, dragging his hands down his face. They’re at an impasse. “That’s not gonna work.”

Spencer looks away again, jaw tensing, and Luke can see his defensive walls rising. He's ready to be hurt, rejected, abandoned.

“Hey,” Luke waits until Spencer is looking at him again. “And we’re not gonna let this not work. Okay? Because this,” he wags his finger between the two of them, “is too important. So we’re going to figure this out. You and me. A genius and his best boyfriend.”

Spencer’s shoulders droop. He takes in a ragged breath and it comes out a sob, tears streaming with relief.

“Okay?” Luke prompts.

Eyes squeezed shut, Spencer nods.

“Spencer? Can I touch you?”

“Yes!” Spencer gasps, reaching toward him.

Luke closes the distance, pressing into Spencer’s uninjured side. One hand rubs up and down Spencer’s far arm while the other cradles his head. Spencer turns his face into Luke’s, and they rest their foreheads together as the tears continue to fall. 

“We’re gonna figure this out,” Luke promises. “We’re gonna have so much more than this one year, so I’m never gonna be able to say something stupid like that again. Spencer, I love you, and I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Spencer sniffs, “I’m sorry I got shot.” 

They both chuckle awkwardly at that, though Spencer has to stop to favor his ribs. Luke makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat, giving him a kiss. “How are you doing? Do you need to lie down?”

After an annoyed huff, Spencer grumbles, “Yeah, I overdid it…”

Luke ducks under Spencer’s arm to help him to bed, then single-handedly stacks his pillows to lean Spencer against them. He slides off Spencer’s shoes and socks, leaving them at the foot of the bed, and sets Spencer’s folded trousers and belt on the dresser. The painkillers are placed beside the lamp for easy locating because the next dose should be soon.

Their breaths are still hitching but the tears have stopped, and Spencer is looking up at Luke with gratitude. He whispers, “You’re still here.”

“I’m still here,” Luke nods, brushing his knuckles along Spencer’s forearm. He quickly gets a fresh ice pack and his trusty heating pad, and when he returns Roxy has materialized, perched protectively at Spencer’s side. “Are you okay with her there? I can get her to leave if you’re worried about your ribs.”

Spencer shakes his head, sliding his hand into her fur, “Worth it.”

The heating pad is plugged in and set within reach on the nightstand, and Luke slides into bed next to his boyfriend, wiggling the ice pack enticingly, “Ready?”

“Extremely.”

Luke sets it over the wound and sees a hint of a wince. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, reaching up to hold it in place himself. “I’m exhausted.”

“We haven’t slept in 30 hours.”

“Right.”

“How long until you can take more pills?”

“It’s close enough,” Spencer decides. Luke hands over two and Spencer tosses them back. He blinks, and it’s a struggle to open his eyes again.

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll handle the hot and cold treatment.”

Spencer frowns, “You should sleep, too.”

“I will,” he assures, already taking control of the ice pack again as Spencer’s sleepy limb drops back to the mattress. 

It looks like Spencer wants to argue, but exhaustion wins, allowing him to finally rest. Luke stays by his side, healing him, until night falls and drags him down as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, lovely readers!


	20. Open Text Policy

The dawning sun wakes Luke and he immediately turns to check on Spencer, but finds only cold sheets in his place. He tosses the bedding, his half-awake brain hoping to find his boyfriend in the folds, before he accepts that he’s alone. Rubbing his eyes, he slides his feet over the edge and pulls himself off the mattress. His knees pop as he makes it across the bedroom floor. “Spencer?”

“Morning!” Spencer’s voice floats from the kitchen, and suddenly Luke smells coffee. It’s freshly brewing in the percolator. Spencer is standing at the stove, his back to Luke, and he’s still wearing Luke’s T-shirt. 

Luke takes the image in, memorizing the beautiful man wearing his clothes and cooking them breakfast, then steps up behind him. His arms wrap around Spencer’s hips and he presses a kiss to his shoulder, “I didn’t expect you to be up. I could have made breakfast, you know.”

Spencer leans back against Luke’s chest and says casually, “I can’t expect you to take care of me forever.”

“Why? Are you replacing me?” He tightens his grip, “Just tell me who they are. I’ll fight ‘em.”

Spencer snorts and shakes his head. “A relationship has to remain equal or it becomes parasitic.”

“Uh-huh,” Luke replies dubiously, “and it’s already been a whole  _ day and a half…” _

Spencer drags a spatula through a pan full of runny eggs just beginning to stiffen, “So I’ve been thinking. It would be prudent for me to log more hours at the shooting range. With practice I can improve my accuracy at greater distances.”

Luke smiles, nuzzling into Spencer’s hair. They’re already working on fixing things. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Spencer adds the important caveat, “Once I can lift a gun above my waist without crying, of course.”

“Of course,” Luke chuckles against the back of Spencer’s neck.

They’re quiet a moment, the only sound the scrape of the spatula. Luke watches over Spencer’s shoulder as those elegant fingers work about the stove, adding salt and pepper and coaxing eggs into fluffy goodness. Spencer has to do everything one-handed, his other arm tucked loosely over his bruise.

Spencer twists his neck until he’s half turned toward Luke, “I made you coffee, if you want some.”

“Thank you!” Luke kisses the presented cheek and untangles himself from his boyfriend to caffeinate himself.

“Oh, here!” Spencer reaches for the drying rack and lifts a Doctor Who mug, presenting it excitedly. He sets it next to the coffee pot, and as he pours in the hot liquid he hums a few bars of the show’s theme song as the TARDIS comes into view.

Luke laughs, grasping Spencer’s face in both hands to kiss his cute geek. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Spencer beams before turning back and scooping eggs onto two plates.

Luke picks them up and takes them to the table, turning to watch Spencer follow. He’s moving slowly, gingerly, but with far more ease than yesterday, and Luke smiles. “Hey, so you seem better. Like,  _ you can stand _ better.”

“I do feel much better,” Spencer nods enthusiastically. “Evidently sleep is an important component to resting an injury.” He slides carefully into his chair, but does so without wincing.

“Just don’t push it. I did that with a sprained wrist and it took an extra two weeks to heal.” 

Spencer gives an obedient nod, focused on his fork.

Luke hasn’t touched his breakfast yet. He nervously strums his fingers on the table, swallowing. He has to bring The Subject up again. It was pretty disastrous last time he did, and he doesn’t want to spoil this happy morning, but they are going into work today and this can’t hang in the air between them. “So, the gun range is a good idea…”

Spencer eyes him expectantly, waiting for the ‘but.’

“But, we’re going to need to come up with more than that. A real plan on how we’ll work together.”

“I honestly think with improved firearm proficiency I’ll be able to more reliably take the shot in the future.”

“It’s not just about that, though. We need to work together in all circumstances and that requires trust. We have to trust each other to do our jobs. You’ve been doing this, what, fifteen years? And I’ve been in the field just as long. We’re good at our jobs. We have to  _ trust _ that we’re good at our jobs. I have to trust that you’re going to take the shot, and you have to trust that I’m going to expect the shot and stay out of the way of that bullet.”

“Okay,” Spencer nods slowly, taking another bite.

Luke continues, “And you have to trust that I’m going to take the shot, and I’m not going to shoot you, either.”

Spencer nods again, and he’s waiting, still expecting.

“It’s going to take time, and effort, but it’s how we’re going to make this work.”

Spencer sighs, relaxing. “Deal.”

Luke chuckles, finally getting to his eggs, “Anything you want to add?”

Spencer cocks his head, squinting in consideration, taking this seriously. “We are clearly both concerned with each others’ safety in the field, and we won’t always be paired up, especially now that I’m on light duty. I think we need an open phone policy, like an open door policy but with texting. Whenever we’re in the field, in potential danger, we can text each other, and we have to respond when we get a chance. As soon as possible. And no judgements on how often the other texts.”

“I’m all for that!” Luke agrees whole-heartedly. “We won’t abuse the system, but no calling the other needy, because texts just mean we care. We should probably get burner phones so Garcia doesn’t snoop.”

“You think burner phones would stop Garcia?” Spencer laughs.

“No, you’re right. She’s terrifying…”

“If she snoops, she snoops.” Spencer shrugs a single shoulder. “The only thing compromising about our messages will be the frequency with which they are sent.”

Luke hops from his seat. He grabs his cell phone from the pocket of yesterday’s pants and Spencer’s in his satchel. Spencer’s phone is set by Spencer’s plate, and Luke taps out a message.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Twinkle twinkle _

“That means ‘I love you.’” Luke explains.

Spencer ducks his blushing face, “Twinkle twinkle.”

It’s not a perfect system. ‘Twinkle twinkle’ isn’t an easily explained away phrase or some covert code, but they aren’t worried about getting caught. They’re worried about each other’s safety, and this helps alleviate that.

They arrive to work together, because if Luke gave Spencer a ride home it’s not strange he’d drive him in the following day. They aren’t in the office more than an hour before they get a case, and it’s wheels up to rural Oregon, Spencer included.

Garcia’s face pops up on the jet’s monitors to give them the run-down, “Local police are referring to this as a long distance serial killer. Three men have been shot dead with arrows in less than two week. All of them were hunters, in regions designated for hunting. The first one they thought was a hunting accident, then they looked into possible ties to animal rights activists and came up dry, so they called us in. Deer season just started and it only lasts a month so, as much as I’m on the side of Bambi here, hunters are about to start pouring in from all over.”

“And it’s open season on them,” Rossi quips.

Prentiss divvies out assignments and by the time they land they’re already running. The first text arrives while Luke is staring at a dead body.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ The medical examiner is an elected official with no medical training. Please make sure Tara gets a very good look at the body. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ She’s already on that. Never seen someone so polite be so intimidating. Pretty sure the ME thinks he works for her now. ** _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ **? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Figured out a shorthand for twinkle twinkle. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ ** _

Luke tunes back in to Tara snapping on a pair of latex gloves and picking up a wooden arrow to study it. “Look at this,” she nods to Luke, pointing at details. “There are notches carved just before the fletchings. They’re the same on the other two arrows, but not identical. These are clearly handmade. Also, there’s a spiral pattern carved near the point on all three, and they’re all dyed pink at the center.”

“Maybe our unsub made them, or maybe they bought them from a craftsperson, but someone might recognize such specific markings,” Luke surmises.

“Exactly,” Tara sets the arrow back with the others on the evidence table and pulls off her gloves to take pictures with her phone. “We should get these out to the press. Thank you, Kyle.”

Kyle, the ME, responds with, “Yes, Ma’am,” before he even realizes he’s speaking, his posture unconsciously straighter as he bows a bit at Tara’s departure. 

Spencer takes his painkillers precisely 24 minutes early, but the ache is creeping in and he doesn’t have time for that. He’s working up a geographical profile of a forest, and as painstaking as they are for developed areas, there are far more complications with wilderness. Satellite images don’t often catch details below the tree canopy, campsites are by their nature temporary, and predatory wildlife moved the first body from the original killsite. Luckily, the other two bodies were killed where they were left, so at least that was something. He’s surprised when he gets a text from Luke, since he isn’t actually in the field but safely cooped up in the station, but their agreement was limitless texts and he’s not complaining.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ How’s the bruise? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Chemically managed. Thank you. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Want me to pick you up an ice pack on our way back in? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ No, the swelling is almost completely gone, but thank you for the offer!  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I shouldn’t admit this, but it was Tara’s idea. ** _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Thank her for me. ** _

JJ and Matt join a local forest ranger to investigate the two determined kill sites, and the area surrounding the first body that was disturbed by a pack of grey wolves. They’re all along the Umpqua River and near, but not inside, hunting blinds. 

“You can see from these deer tracks along here,” Ranger Stevensen explains at the second kill site as she kneels in the damp earth at the river’s shore, “that this is a popular watering hole. Our victim, Mr. Nichols, was lying in wait up just past that treeline, and then came down here to urinate, where he was shot in the back with an arrow.” There’s still blood in the soil, attracting a myriad of buzzing and crawling things.

“Why would he urinate where he’s trying to attract deer?” JJ asks. “I thought the scent scares them off.”

“That’s one theory,” Stevensen nods, rising up to stand back on drier ground. “Others think if you make it look like a scrape, like a buck marking his territory, you’ll attract a buck for a trophy kill.”

“Is that common?”

“Nah. Most hunters pee in bottles and pack it out with them. But our third victim, Jeffries, was found the same way. No way to tell on our first guy.”

“All right,” Matt chimes in. “So if at least two victims have that in common, maybe that’s what made them targets. Is this practice seen as controversial? Cheating?”

Stevensen shrugs, “Some see it as unfair. Some see hunting as unfair. Some see eating meat as unfair. But, any place you find opinions, you’ll find strong ones.”

Matt scans the mountainside, hands on his hips, “Can you show us the blind?”

“Sure, it’s up here.” She takes off straight up the mountain, her hiking boots gripping the dirt and propelling her with ease. The agents’ shoes are less adept, and by the time they join her at the cramped shelter of sticks and leaves tucked beside a rock, Stevensen has already rested and sipped luxuriously from her canteen. “He had food up here, extra ammunition, his wallet, even his hunting license. You’re supposed to keep that on you at all times, but some hunters get careless, especially if they think they’ll be right back.”

JJ squats in front of the blind, looking around from it’s perspective, “Our unsub wouldn’t have been able to shoot Nichols while he was in here because you can’t get a good shot without him seeing you coming. So, either the unsub was waiting for when the victims were vulnerable, or they’re watching the watering holes.”

Police Chief Ranjali is generous enough to order the team sandwiches, which is how they learn it’s lunchtime amidst their hyper-focused tasks. Spencer and Luke sit next to each other at the conference table, and it’s as close to a date as they’re going to get. JJ and Matt, still hiking through the wilderness, nearly lose their food to a pair of hungry patrollmen, but Rossi discretely tucks the sandwiches away for safety.

A teenage girl walks into the station, makes it confidently past the front desk and into the bullpen before calling out, “Dad?”

Chief Ranjali pops out of his office, “Divya?”

“Dad, I know where the arrow is from!” Her father just stares at her in surprise, so she continues, “I saw on Twitter, you wanted to know if anyone recognized it. I do!” She pulls her backpack around and unzips it, drawing out a thick hardbound novel, “It’s from The Hidden People. I just started reading it, but there’s a picture that looks just like the ones posted online.” She opens the book, holding up the page for everyone to see. A crowd of law enforcement officers has gathered around her to see a black ink sketch of a bow with three crafted arrows. “They cut their arrows and dye them with flowers to give them magically true aim. It’s part of a series that some of my friends are reading. And you said it’s all been hunters who’ve been killed, right? The Hidden People? They go after poachers. With bows and arrows.”

Prentiss slowly shakes her head, “It’d be a huge coincidence. I want a copy of every book in that series. Reid, get reading.”

“May I?” Spencer holds out his hand to Divya, requesting her book, which she hands over willingly and he immediately begins sliding his fingers down the lines, rapidly flipping pages.

Divya’s attention is quickly taken by her father’s praise. “Divya, I’m so proud of you. You did a great job bringing that to our attention.”

“Do you think it will help?”

“I think you may have solved the case. Now let’s see if Ms. Reynolds can get you something from the vending machine…” He wisely steers his child away from the hanging crime scene photos.

Prentiss slides her phone from her pocket and hits the speed dial in one smooth motion.

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” Garcia’s perky voice sings from the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into a book series called The Hidden People. We think our unsub may be a fan. Check fansites, fanmail to the publisher or author, see what sticks out.”

“The Hidden People… a young adult series by the mysteriously named A. Sinclair…” The unmistakable clack of typing punctuates her words. “On it!” She hangs up.

Prentiss turns to the rest of her team, “Luke, Rossi, I’d like you to join Matt and JJ at the Ranger Station. I want you close in case our unsub strikes again. Tara, I want you on those fansites as well, but from a psychology point of view. I want to know what kind of fans this series has and who might take it too far.”

Everyone dutifully takes to their tasks. Luke grabs his phone, holding it in front of him and catching Spencer’s eye to tell him,  _ ‘Feel free to text me.’ _ Spencer gives his pocket a slight tap to respond,  _ ‘I’ve got my phone on me.’ _

The entire eight book series is found at a Barnes & Noble in nearby Eugene. They aren’t immensely popular, but there is a strong cult following that keeps them in stock. As soon as they’re in his hands, Spencer begins to tear through them. He has two books left when Prentiss asks for an update.

“The main character is a girl named Reya who is part of a tribe that defends a sacred forest from poachers, just like Divya told us. An outsider, a boy named Arlo, wanders into the sacred forest and he and Reya fall in love. Their courtship takes,” he points to a stack of five thick novels, “all of these books. I have two more to read and I’ll let you know if anything helps.”

“Sounds like you’re really taking one for the team,” Prentiss grins.

With a long-suffering sigh, Spencer shakes his head, “My eidetic memory assures not a single word will ever leave my brain.”

Prentiss’ phone rings and she answers it on speaker, “Garcia, what do you have?”

“I’ve looked in every fan corner and I’ve found the opposite of weird. It looks like everyone who reads these books are young girls.” There’s a note of sympathy in her voice, like she feels a need to defend the girls she’s seen images of from the idea that they might be guilty. “Fans are inspired to take basic survival courses that teach tracking and what plants you can eat, and yes a lot learn archery, but, like, kid archery, with moms and juice boxes and these little tiny bows and rubber-tipped arrows, not the murder-y kind we’re dealing with.”

“Our profile doesn’t preclude a female unsub,” Tara joins in. “And while the bow we saw could only be shot by an adult, the first book of The Hidden People was published eight years ago. Our unsub could be one of the original fans.”

Chief Ranjali holds up his hand, face confused, “Let me understand. Someone is killing these people because they’re fans of a book series? The main character kills hunters, so they have to, as well?”

“This isn’t role-playing,” Tara explains in a tone that is both informative and kind. “For this sudden onslaught of violence, our unsub is likely suffering a psychotic break. She was a fan of the books and with the psychosis she became confused. She isn’t killing because she wants to, but because she feels she has to. I believe her identity became merged with this character. Our unsub doesn’t wish to be like Reya, she believes she _ is _ Reya.”

“She’s in a cave!” Spencer jumps up, then remembers he’s only three days into a month of healing bruised ribs and nearly collapses back in his seat. He staggers over to the map on the evidence board, “This doesn’t show cave systems. Where are cave openings near the kill sites?”

“I’ll get it,” Ranjali takes a step toward his office, concerned eyes lingering on Spencer. “He okay?”

Prentiss waves him off with a curt nod. They have to focus. She watches Spencer stare at the cave-less map like he might be able to summon more information from it, both of his hands protectively clutching the wound on his chest. “Reid, keep explaining the cave thing.”

He turns, pulled from his thoughts, “The main character, Reya, her people find out about her and Arlo and punish them. Arlo is sent back to his home and Reya is banished, but she has to go through a cave that changes her appearance so she’ll be unrecognizable to Arlo when she reaches his side. She is given the choice to either find Arlo with her new face or earn her way back to her people.”

“That’s how the books end?” Prentiss frowns.

“That’s how the last book ends, but the series is incomplete. Our unsub is trying to earn her way back to the sacred forest by defending the wildlife here, in the hopes that the cave will let her back in.”

“Well,” Prentiss processes that, “we can’t get the cave to do that, but we can send in Arlo.”

Spencer can hazard a guess as to what that might mean, so he spins back to the map and discretely shoots off a text.

Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez   
Don’t do anything stupid.

Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid   
...Okay?

Ranjali returns with a printout of cave systems, filling in details from memory. “The only real cave opening we’ve got around there that can fit a person is Black Bear Cave.”

“Garcia, could you get Dave on the line?”

“Yep!” Garcia chirps from the phone’s speaker, having been listening silently this whole time. 

The agents huddle together around the cell phone, and Prentiss begins explaining as soon as Rossi answers, “We know how to find our unsub.” She points the phone to Tara.

“We believe she is a young woman, age eighteen to twenty-two, suffering from a psychotic break. She believes she is the character from a young adult fantasy series who kills poachers, which is why all her victims have been hunters.” Tara lifts her eyebrows at Spencer to let him know it’s his turn.

“The character’s name is Reya. She was banished through a cave, so we believe you’ll find the unsub in or around Black Bear Cave. She’ll view anyone as a threat except the love interest from the series, Arlo. He’s meek, non-threatening. While most men in his community hunt, he gathers berries and comes up with riddles.”

At the Ranger’s Station, Luke smiles. He thinks he might understand the character of a mild-mannered and sweet geek, might be able to pull off the role. He wonders if that’s the stupid thing Spencer warned him against, but then why is he giving them the idea?

“I can take you there,” Ranger Stevensen volunteers. “We should go while there’s still light. We have 4 watt radios in case reception gets spotty.” She hands each agent a walkie talkie, keeping one for herself. “Channel 12”

“Channel 12,” Chief Ranjali confirms on the other end of the line. 

“Keep in contact,” Prentiss commands, and then the call ends.

Ranjali’s voice cackles over all five walkies, “Testing. Testing.”

“Loud and clear,” Stevensen responds, her voice amplified around the station by all the radio speakers.

They file out as Luke’s phone chimes.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Stay safe, please. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ So, still not allowed to do something stupid? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Archery may seem archaic but an arrow will pierce kevlar. She’s already killed three people. Please be careful. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ In fact, could you please relay that to the team, as well? ** _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ ** _

“Reid wants to remind us that our bulletproof vests don’t stop arrows, so be careful,” Luke calls out to the group, sliding his phone safely in his pocket for the rugged journey.

“So the serial killer might be dangerous?” Rossi mocks.

“Tell him thanks,” Matt adds. “It’d be _ really embarrassing _ if we got shot.”

JJ wags her finger sternly between the two jokers, “This is why Spence doesn’t text you.”

They zigzag up the mountain’s face, hiking along the ridge and then down the other side until they reach a twist of the rushing Umpqua River. They need to travel single-file on the narrow path along the shore before Stevensen finally points out a rocky area at the foot of the mountain, “That’s Black Bear Cave.”

“Any sign of our unsub?” Rossi asks, both because he’s next to an experienced tracker and because his aging eyes don’t have the best beat on the cave entrance.

“There’s tracks for at least a dozen people. We’re only so far off the beaten path,” Stevensen reports.

“We should fan out along the edge of the treeline.” Luke leans into his military experience. “When we’re in position, I’ll call out to her.”

It’s a fine enough plan. Silencing their radios, they travel as one through the last stretch of forest until they are within thirty feet of the cave, still under the cover of dense trees, and spread out in a U-shape around the entrance.

Luke waits until he gets the nod from JJ, who had to walk the farthest, and cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his shout, “Reya! Reya, are you there?”

They all wait, perfectly still, perfectly silent. The river splashes behind them, the wind rustles the trees, but nothing else answers his call.

Luke tries again, “Reya, are you in there?”

There’s movement in the cave mouth, someone coming out. It isn’t their unsub. It’s a black bear, up on its hind legs, teeth bared. It drops on all fours and roars. It’s eyes catch Luke and it lurches forward, ready to attack.

“Got it!” Stevensen shouts before the agents can take a shot. She aims and suddenly there’s a dart with a large red plume sticking out from the bear’s fur. 

The bear takes two more menacing steps before it collapses to the ground, unconscious.

“What did you do?” a scream echoes from the darkness of the cave.

“Reya, the bear is just asleep! I would never hurt it.” Luke ducks down to better hide, eyes glued to the entrance.

Sunlight glints off the sharp tip of an arrow, nocked in a taught bow. The archer steps into the light. Her hair is wild, tangled with leaves and twigs, and she’s wearing the tattered remains of a green velveteen gown one would find at a Renaissance Faire. “You’re all the same! You come here for your trophies and you maim and kill our creatures for sport!”

“Not me!” Luke doesn’t move from his hiding spot, but he knows his voice can give up his position. “I would never hurt them. That bear is sleeping because it knows I’m not a threat. I was just gathering berries.”

The unsub steps closer to the bear, sees the furry abdomen rise and fall with breath. Her eyes flash toward the foliage separating her from Luke and she gasps, “Arlo?”

“Reya, you look different. So do I. How about you lower your bow?” Luke watches through the leaves as she lowers it just enough to not be aimed directly at him. He slowly rises into view, hands up so as to appear as unthreatening as possible. He’s worried that his appearance might throw the unsub, that he won’t look as she imagines Arlo should and this will all go very south very quickly. 

“Arlo! I thought I’d lost you forever!” She sighs with relief, and so does Luke.

“I’ve been looking for you, Reya. I knew I’d find you.”

She takes a step forward, arrow still dangerously nocked in place.

Luke steps back, letting his face fill with worry, “Reya, you have to put that down. You can’t bring that with you if you want to be with me.” It’s a risky gamble; the unsub has to want Arlo more than she wants a magical forest.

She takes a step back, squinting with doubt, “Why?”

“Your magic doesn’t work the same where we’re going. It’s dangerous. It can hurt me.”

She frowns, considering that idea, and the rest of Luke’s team remains a secret in the trees. She looks at her weaponry, the carefully crafted bow, the handmade arrow, and drops them to the ground. She slides a hand along her shoulder to loosen the strap on her quiver, and lets the rest of her ammunition fall to the dirt.

Luke smiles, holding out his arms in invitation. She steps toward him, face blissfully entranced, and when she’s far from reach of her weapons Luke closes the distance and places his hands on her shoulders, her body now under his control. “Reya, I want you to meet my friends. They’re going to help us.”

“Friends?” Her voice is a bit dazed.

Out of the trees comes the rest of the team, weapons holstered. JJ smiles, “It’s nice to meet you, Reya. Arlo has told us so much about you.” The agents form a barricade around their unsub with their bodies, faces friendly as they guide her back along the path out, and at the rear Ranger Stevensen hangs back to check on the sleeping bear and collect the arrows and bow. The whole hike back, their unsub recounts her adventures to her love, which serves as her confession. She’ll be getting the help she needs once they reach civilization. 

There are police cruisers waiting for them on the other side of the mountain, thanks to Stevensen’s radio, and as sad as it makes Luke to hand off this confused woman to arresting officers as she cries out for her Arlo, she’s murdered three people and needs to be taken into custody.

The team climbs into the second vehicle, Stevensen tossing the weaponry into the back before riding shotgun. Halfway along the dirt road Luke’s phone finds reception and chirps a text from his clearly irate boyfriend.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ THERE WAS A BEAR? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read and respond to this story! It makes my days! Seriously! I have so little else going on... :-)


	21. Uncle

They’re crossing the tarmac back to their vehicles, laughing at some inappropriate joke about their most recent serial killer, when Luke gets the happy message.

_Analise Diaz → Luke Alvez_   
_She’s finally here!_

It’s followed up with a dozen pictures of a perfect newborn child, bundled in yellow stripes, her hand a tiny fist at her chin.

Luke stops, entranced by his brand new niece, and the rest of the team pauses to see what’s up. He explains, a huge grin on his face, “Analise had her baby!”

“Analise?” is a confused response because of course most of the team doesn’t know who she is, so Luke tries again.

“My cousin. She had a little girl.” He turns the phone around to show off one of the images. 

Rossi cocks his head adoringly, “Ah, Bella!”

“She’s beautiful!” JJ praises.

Even Prentiss, badass international spy turned boss, coos, “Look at that little face!”

Spencer is vibrating with excitement, struggling to tamp it down. He knows this mother, saw the bump that contained this child, but being around coworkers means he needs to pretend he has no attachment. Luke watches this all play across the genius’ face and saves him with a quick change of subject, “Reid, you need a ride?”

Spencer looks at him gratefully, “Yes, thank you!”

They break off toward Luke’s Subaru, which Luke has been driving in every day since Spencer’s injury for just this type of occasion.

Rossi watches the two of them head off together and nods his head approvingly, leaning in toward JJ so only she can hear, “I felt bad for the Kid when Morgan left. They were so close. It’s nice he’s got that again with Alvez.”

Internally, JJ giggles at the comparison, but she lets none of her humor show. She’s far too skilled to remove any hypothetical cats from their bags. She schools her expression, eyeing Luke and Spencer as if for the first time seeing what Rossi alluded to, and responds honestly, “Yeah, it’s nice.”

Luke’s drive from the airport is seven minutes and in that time he gets 16 text messages, all from Analise, the new proud Mama. He doesn’t read them, of course, as he’s driving around precious cargo, but he and Spencer share an incredulous look as the notification sound becomes the repetitive soundtrack to their journey.

Once safely parked in the garage, Luke scrolls through the conversation to see more baby pictures, something he will never tire of, and a litany of demands from his cousin. Intriguing demands. Demands he’ll need to speak with Spencer about.

Spencer is outside the car, staring patiently at Luke through the windshield, and Luke hops to it. He throws open his door, leans to get out, gets snagged rather harshly by the fastened seat belt, then tries again with more success. Spencer does an impressive job holding in his laughter as he guesses as to the messages, “More pictures of the baby?”

“Yes,” Luke replies, because while he’s partly right Luke is going to wait to bring up the rest. He leads them up the stairs, and Spencer has healed enough to climb them now at a regular pace, though his hands still ghost over the bruise any time he breathes a bit heavier.

They get inside Luke’s apartment, greet an excited Roxy with a cookie, remove their shoes and bags at the door, and head for the kitchen to heat up leftovers. It’s a routine they’ve fallen into quickly and easily. They relax on the couch with Doctor Who playing in the background, the sounds of home inspiring conversation. Their plates are world tours of cuisine: Spencer’s curry made at Luke’s request last weekend, pad thai from the restaurant down the road, and tacos because everyone loves tacos. 

Plates emptied and placed in the dishwasher, Luke grabs the bruise cream from the medicine cabinet and waves it before Spencer to ask for permission, even though they’ve done this nearly every day for a week now. Spencer smiles gratefully and Luke sits back down next to him to unbutton his shirt. The bruise is yellowing and still prominent on his chest, but Luke can touch it now without causing pain. He’s gentle, still, as he applies the medicated lotion in soft circles, watching Spencer’s face for signs of discomfort. Spencer watches Luke right back, his face adoring, and he lifts an arm to caress Luke’s cheek.

Luke slides his hand to Spencer’s waist, away from the injury, and leans in for a kiss. He means for it to be chaste, but Spencer surges up and it becomes heated.

“You’re so good to me!” In his excitement, his voice comes out like a whine. “I love you so much!”

Luke drags his fingers through Spencer’s hair until his palm cradles his head. He slows the movements of his mouth, calming the kiss, making it something that can last. He feels Spencer relax, sighing against his lips, and Luke runs his knuckles along Spencer’s side as Spencer slides down against the armrest. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, then drags his lips down, kissing along Spencer’s jaw.

A ping comes from Luke’s pocket.

Luke ignores it, focusing instead on the way Spencer shivers when he presses a sucking kiss to his neck.

The phone pings again. And again. And again and again because Hurricane Analise can devastate even remote ports.

“She’s really insistent with those baby pictures,” Spencer laughs, and Luke can hear in his voice the way his breath is fluttering in his lungs. 

Luke sighs, “Actually, I need to ask you something.” He sits back on his cushion because this isn’t a horizontal conversation. 

Spencer follows suit, sits back up, but he looks a bit nervous, “Ask me something?”

Luke nods, going over in his head the few ways he thought to word this on his walk from the car, but he decides to just be blunt, “Would you like to meet my family?”

Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do they know about me?”

“Analise knows about you,” Luke explains. “So everyone knows about you. The family knows, everyone at her work knows, everyone at her salon, everyone she’s ever stopped at a red light with… She’s more effective than Twitter.” 

“Is that okay? That they know?”

“I’m happy they know,” Luke responds seriously, face open and honest. “Analise is having a Baby’s Zeroth Birthday Party on Saturday, which I’m pretty sure is something she just made up.”

“Do you think they’d want me there?” Spencer’s fingers find the open ends of his shirt, self-consciously pulling them together to cover himself.

Luke reaches out and wraps a hand around one of Spencer’s, squeezing in reassurance, “You were invited by name. _Summoned_ , really.”

Spencer slowly nods, eyes cast downwards, and he frowns as he thinks. Then he meets Luke’s gaze again. “This feels like a big deal. It’s a big deal, right?” It highlights his inexperience with relationships, and he’s looking at Luke in earnest, trusting him to guide him through this unknown.

“I love my family, and I love you,” Luke watches the small smile those words bring to Spencer’s face, “so it’s important to me that you meet, but there’s no rush. I want you to feel comfortable. I’ve met your mom, and you’ve met Analise already who is the scariest person in my family so the rest is frankly going to be a cake walk.” Luke laughs at his own joke and Spencer gives a breath of a chuckle. 

Spencer worries his lip, his nose twitching with nerves, and he swallows before asking, “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Of course they’ll like you! What’s not to like?”

Spencer’s eyes widen as he makes a mental list, so Luke interrupts that right away.

“You’ve got that cute nose.”

Spencer scoffs at that, so Luke leans in and gives said cute nose a kiss.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

Those eyes roll skyward, “Okay, Luke…”

“You have those gorgeous lips.”

“I highly doubt your family is going to care about my lips.”

“I care.” Luke slides a thumb across Spencer’s bottom lip, tugging it slightly, and Spencer’s breath hitches at the touch. 

“You have this sexy neck.” Luke leans close, ducking his head below Spencer’s eyeline to lick a row of hot, wet kisses down his throat.

“Yeah?” Spencer’s voice pitches higher and he raises his chin to give Luke more access.

“Yeah,” Luke pulls Spencer’s shirt back open to go lower, lavishing that scar at the base of his neck.

Spencer grabs Luke’s collar, pulling him up so he can claim his mouth in a greedy kiss. “Want you,” he pants. “Take me to bed?”

Luke moans, crashing their mouths together again, the words, “So hot,” barely intelligible against Spencer’s tongue. He lifts Spencer up, their mouths fused as they clamber toward the bedroom.

Saturday comes and Luke drives them to Analise’s home in Ashland, so Spencer is free to nervously bounce his knees and tap his thighs with abandon. 

Luke reaches over, laying a gentle hand on Spencer forearm, “They aren’t foreign dignitaries.”

Spencer turns from his window to furrow his brow at Luke, “Hmm?”

“They’re not the royal family.”

Spencer gives a little nod when he understands, then counters, “They’re _your family.”_

“Exactly! They’re nice, middle-class people from the Bronx. You don’t need to worry about impressing them.”

“I’ve been impressive my entire life. I’m worried about being likeable.” 

“Everyone at work likes you.” Luke replies quickly, like it’s just a fact.

Spencer takes that in, and it seems to ease him a bit. Then he winces, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I’m nervous and it’s transferring to you.”

“I’m not nervous,” Luke assures.

“You’re gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles are white.”

Luke looks down and sees Spencer is right. He loosens his hand and it pops and cracks with relief. “Huh.”

Spencer nods knowingly, “Sorry.”

Luke takes a deep, cleansing breath. “This is going to go well because you’re enjoyable to be around and my family is welcoming. No more nerves.”

“Okay,” Spencer laughs. “Nerves banished.” His eyes wander around the car as the steady stream of I-95 loses its appeal. He sends a bright smile to the side of Luke’s face and catches a glimpse of the wrapped package on the back seat. “Are we sure those word books were the right gift for a newborn?”

Luke shrugs, “They were at the top of Analise’s list.”

“A child can’t recognize words until age three, and won’t develop reading skills until six.”

“Yeah,” Luke nods, already understanding this, “Analise has… theories. _Lots_ of theories.” He leaves it at that.

“Thank you for letting me sign the card.” Spencer smiles to himself, “I’ve never given a couple’s gift before. It was just addressed to ‘Baby,’ though.”

“Yup!” Luke chuckles. “Analise said we don’t get to learn the name of her child until we visit. She said it’s a surprise.”

They park on the quiet street in front of Analise’s modest three bedroom home and walk up the garden path. The lawn needs trimming, the maple’s dropped leaves are still a clutter below its balding branches, but these priorities fall away once a child enters the home. Gift in one hand, Luke knocks softly on the door. They want to alert the family of their presence, not wake a baby.

The door swings open to Luke’s joyously excited parents. His mother throws her arms around him with a cry of, “My baby!” and he soaks in the love she gives so freely. She pulls away and holds his face, examining, “You look good.” 

“Mom, Dad,” Luke reaches for Spencer, sliding a hand along the back of his arm. “This is Spencer, my boyfriend. Spencer, these are Rita and Joe Alvez, my parents.”

Joe reaches a hand out, and when Spencer grasps it, he brings up his other hand to close around Spencer’s knuckles. His face is a quiet warmth, like a steaming mug of tea on a winter’s day. “It’s nice to meet you, Spencer.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Sir.”

“Please call me Joe.” His cheeks dimple when he smiles, just like Luke.

Joe steps back and Rita steps forward, her arms already open wide. She gently envelops Spencer, her affection not transmitted in the tightness of her squeeze but the tenderness of her embrace. “You call me Mama Rita, Spencer.” She pulls back, tugging him along, “You both come inside now. The baby is excited to meet you.”

They step into the home, greeted by festive decorations. A “Welcome home, Baby!” sign hangs between yellow streamers above the stairwell. White ribbons curl downwards from yellow balloons that bounce against the ceiling. 

They stay clumped in the entrance as the door shuts the cold air out, and through the archway walks Analise, holding her bundle of joy against her chest. She looks exhausted, her hair stringy and her eyes baggy, but the bliss on her face is unmistakable. “Hey, Luke. Hey, Spencer.”

Luke closes the distance, wrapping an arm around her back and gazing down at the baby. He uses a single finger to pull the yellow blanket from the tiny pink face. “Aww, Lise, you did good.”

“Yeah, she’s perfect,” she gushes. “Luke, I’d like you to meet Lucia Maria Diaz. Her middle name is for Grandma, and her first name is for her amazing uncle.”

Luke gasps, his eyes instantly stinging. “You named her after me? Analise, that’s… _wow._ I’m honored. Thank you!” He presses his face into her hair, squeezing her shoulders as tight as he dares.

“I know, I’m amazing.” Analise giggles. “Now let’s go meet Uncle Spencer.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows shoot up at the title. He’s stunned, frozen in place as Analise slowly shuffles toward him.

“You’re gonna make me walk all the way over there?” Analise whines half-heartedly, a tired smile on her lips.

“Sorry!” Spencer hops forward, coming close to her side to see the baby. “Hi, Lucia,” he whispers to her sleeping features. “I’m Spencer.”

“Uncle Spencer,” Analise is quick to correct.

“I’m Uncle Spencer.” The words feel amazing to say. He’s been Uncle Spencer already, to Henry and Michael LaMontagne, and even once to Jack Hotchner while he was teaching him a magic trick, but never has he inherited the title through a relationship. Never has he had this bridge to another family.

“I’m gonna go sit back down now because my legs are tired. My whole body is tired because somebody doesn’t let me sleep. Isn’t that right, Lucia? You’re sleeping just fine and I’m not bothering you, but do you repay the courtesy? No.” Locked in this important conversation with her daughter, she makes her slow journey back to the living room. There, she has her throne: a cushioned rocking chair with two plush blankets over the back and presents piled on each side. She eases into it, sighing as her feet find the ottoman. 

“Come on, Boys,” Rita guides them deeper into the house, past Analise toward the kitchen. “You can help me with the lasagna.”

“Ooh,” Luke sets a hand on the small of Spencer’s back as they follow side by side, “you’re going to love my Ma’s Lasagna.”

There are three people preparing food in the kitchen: a man around their age, a young woman with features strikingly similar to Luke’s and Analise’s, and an older woman. It’s the older woman who speaks first, “Luke, sweetheart, I’m so happy you made it!” She reaches her small frame high to hug him, rocking side to side. Then she turns, “And you must be Spencer! I’m Yvonna, Luke’s aunt. Look at you, you’re just as handsome as Rita said.” She places an affectionate hand on his cheek, giving it a squeeze, then wraps herself around his middle. When she pulls away, she points to the younger woman, now washing her hands at the sink, “That is my daughter Bethany. You already know my other daughter, Analise, and that’s Analise’s husband, Raul.”

Spencer makes a mental note to get this family tree in writing so he can commit it to memory.

Bethany grabs a towel to dry her hands, lifting her face toward Luke, and when he bends forward she kisses his cheek. She steps toward Spencer, not touching yet. “It’s nice to meet you, Spencer. My husband, Carlos, is out back with the kids, undoubtedly staining their clothes beyond repair.” It’s a half-joke delivered by the woman who will be responsible for cleaning said clothing later. “They’ll be in soon.” She sets down the towel and opens her arms, the first to request permission for a hug.

With a quick nod, Spencer steps into the embrace, returning it. It’s not the maternal hug he received from Rita and Yvonna, but a friendly squeeze of someone who takes a little longer to get to know, who has a polite exterior to guard a deeply private interior. 

Raul sets the wooden spoon he’s been stirring through tomato sauce against the edge of the pot. He and Luke exchange a one-armed bro hug, and then Raul goes for the same with Spencer. It’s rougher than Spencer has been experiencing, and when he takes an elbow to the ribs he grunts in pain and Raul jumps back, hands up, “I’m sorry, Man!”

“No, it’s fine!” Spencer gasps out.

Mama Rita steps in, surveying Spencer with concern, “What’s wrong, Honey?”

“I’m fine,” Spencer starts to get out, but he’s overruled by Luke.

“He was hurt on the job, Ma. Took a bullet to the vest, bruised up his ribs.”

Rita’s eyes bulge out, her hands framing Spencer’s shoulders, “You were shot?”

“In the vest,” Spencer repeats what he feels is the key detail.

“Oh, no no no. You’re not working.” She grasps his hand, leading him out of the kitchen and back to the living room. “You just rest here, Sweetheart. Keep Analise and Lucia company.”

Spencer is plopped on the couch and he feels like repeating the whole thing about that bulletproof vest, but then Rita is tending to another. She leans over Analise and coos, “Such a precious angel. And your baby is perfect, too.”

 _“Mama Rita!”_ she preens at the praise, and then once Rita is back in the kitchen she turns to Spencer. “So, what got you benched so quickly? Did you burn something already?”

“It’s just a minor workplace injury.”

Analise winces in sympathy, “What happened?”

“Just bruised ribs. They’re already mostly healed.” Spencer down-plays it as much as possible, entirely over being injured.

Analise nods wisely, “Yeah, the Mamas won’t let you work like that. And even a hint of a cold and it’s off to bed with you.” She says this without any annoyance; it’s simply a fact of life. “Do those ribs prevent you from holding a baby?”

“Not at all,” Spencer sits up straighter, hope blooming at the prospect. 

Analise drops her legs from the ottoman and laboriously hoists herself to her feet. Spencer hops up, hiding a wince as he jostles that persistent wound, and cups her elbows to help steady her. Analise smiles gratefully, “Thanks. I have to pee and I’m told that’s going to be my only alone time for the next eighteen years.” She extends her arms, holding her baby out to him, “Protect her with your life.”

“I will,” Spencer vows honestly, and suddenly he’s alone in the living room, holding a baby he’s told to think of as his niece. She’s small, fragile, and so very perfect. He imagines this might be what Luke looked like as a child, or what a child born to Luke may look like. He takes a slow circle around the room, letting the smooth rocking of his gait keep her blissfully unconscious so he can admire her peaceful features and soft breaths.

“What!” Luke steps out of the kitchen, hands on his hips, “How did you get to hold her before me?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Spencer grins, “Lucia likes me more.”

Luke gasps, hand over his heart as if deeply offended, “I will _fight_ you for the title of Favorite Uncle.”

“Uh-huh,” Spencer accepts the mock competition. He moves closer, bouncing the baby with his knees. “I can’t believe you got me kicked out of the kitchen”

“Well, you did get shot...”

“And you went toe-to-toe with a _bear.”_

Luke sticks a stern finger out, “Don’t you even. If you give my Mama a heart attack, I _will_ arrest you.”

Spencer bows his head, accepting defeat. He’s still holding Lucia, though, so that’s mostly a win.

“Uncle Luke! Uncle Luke!” Three children come screaming in from the sliding door and launch themselves at Luke. He can catch two, and the smallest clings to his leg.

Bethany’s no-nonsense voice follows her rambunctious offspring, “Andy, Sarah, Hannah, if you wake that baby-”

Spencer’s arms are suddenly filled with wails. He lifts the tiny bundle, tucking her screaming face under his chin so he can shush directly into her ear, “Shhh-ch-shhhh. Shhh-ch-shhh.” He read that the white noise is reminiscent of the womb and soothing for newborns, but he’s yet to practically apply the theory. Lucia seems unsure about the science. Her crying quiets, but doesn’t stop, and now she’s making sucking noises between whimpers.

“She’s hungry,” Analise appears, arms open to reclaim her child, and Spencer carefully maneuvers Lucia over. “Bethy?” Analise calls toward the kitchen over Lucia’s continued demands. “Can you help me with the thing, please?”

“Of course!” Bethany quickly emerges, towel once again in hand. She gives her children the Mother Point of Scolding as she passes them and follows her sister into another room.

Luke is still laden with children, a Christmas tree with too many ornaments to properly stand, and he looks thrilled. The children have been properly chastised for their disruption and all three have tucked their shamed faces into their uncle’s clothing. 

“All right, party poopers,” Luke gently teases, getting a giggle for the word ‘poopers.’ “I want to introduce you to someone.” He lowers the kids in his arms back to the ground and encourages the one barnacled around his calf to unwrap herself. He lays a hand on their heads as he introduces them, “This is Andy. He’s really into reptiles, especially snakes. This is Sarah who likes to read, and read the most books in her grade level last summer. And this little one here is Hannah, who doesn’t pick her nose anymore. Isn’t that right, Hannah?”

“Maybe a widdle,” Hannah admits honestly. 

“Maybe a widdle,” Luke amends with a straight face.

Spencer does his familiar little wave and smiles, “It’s very nice to meet you, Andy, Sarah, and Hannah.”

Luke drops down to his knees to address his niblings. “Guys, you know how your Aunt Analise was dating your Uncle Raul before they got married? Well, this is Spencer, and he’s dating me.”

“Hi, Uncle Spencer!” the two oldest greet in unison while the youngest follows up with something that sounds more like, “Hi, Uncoo Spensa!”

Spencer keeps a light smile on his face, but this time being called ‘Uncle’ feels different. It’s cute and essentially ceremonial when done with a baby who’s hippocampus isn’t fully developed, but these children are old enough to understand the title, old enough to remember him.

“Guys,” Luke keeps talking to the kids in an excited voice, “how about you three go hide together and I’ll come find you in five minutes?” 

“How many is that?” Andy asks, starting to count on his fingers.

“Count to 300!” Luke encourages. “Go go go!” 

Six small feet thunder up the stairs.

Luke steps in close to Spencer, wrapping his arms around his waist. He speaks low enough for only Spencer to hear, “What’s up?”

Spencer shakes his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Luke keeps his face neutral, not judging, “You looked like you were freaking out a little bit.”

“Oh.” He’s surprised it was that obvious. “I thought that, maybe, it was a little too soon for them to call me ‘Uncle?’ I just don’t want to confuse them.”

“Don’t want to confuse them…” Luke reads Spencer’s face, then gives an understanding nod, “Ah. Well, then, I guess you’re just not allowed to break up with me.”

“Of course not!” Spencer says a little too loudly. He looks around, but no one’s watching them. “I just… I don’t really know.”

“Hey,” Luke places a warm palm on Spencer’s cheek and Spencer automatically leans into it. “This is a lot. I know. These are a lot of people welcoming you with _very_ open arms, a lot of connections happening.”

Spencer sighs, relieved Luke understands even when he doesn’t.

Luke cocks his head, a glint in his eye, “But you’re just gonna have to get used to it. Because you’re my boyfriend and you’re gonna get invited over all the time.”

Spencer feels a smile take over his face, blush heating his cheeks. “Yeah, I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” Luke gives him a quick kiss, “you are. Now let’s go find the munchkins.”

The kids are hiding under the master bed. Spencer makes a show of not being able to see them until Luke drops down and roars, sending them squealing out of the room. Spencer and Luke wait a few minutes before following their giggles to the next hiding place. They tour the house in this way, one screaming chase after another, until Bethany arrives to supervise the pre-dinner handwashing, ensuring both Luke and Spencer participate, and then it’s back down to the living room.

A man with perfectly gelled hair and a dress shirt cuffed up to mid-forearm sticks out his hand to shake Spencer’s, “You must be the handsome doctor Luke’s dating. Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Reid. I’m Carlos Santiago. I head up the Southeastern division of Cosmetec Industries. You may be familiar with our pharmaceuticals.”

Spencer is, specifically with a few lawsuits they’ve been able to skirt under less than scrupulous means, but he has become socially adept enough to know not to bring that up. “Actually, ‘Doctor’ refers to my PhDs. I don’t practice medicine.”

Carlos’ broad smile drops, something in him turning off, but he’s not frowning. If anything, he’s relaxing. “I bet people make that mistake all the time.”

“Yes.”

“They should really come up with different words. If I want to speak with a brilliant mathematician, I wouldn’t think to ask for a doctor, you know?”

Spencer is used to the metaphor in reverse, the example of someone calling for a doctor and getting an academic with aspirations instead of medical assistance, and what a disappointment that would be. This take is refreshing. “Actually, one of my doctorates is in mathematics!” 

Carlos’ face alights, “You have more than one doctorate.” He turns to his wife, whose children are clinging to her like she holds some candy-coated treasure, “Bethany, we need to get the kids hanging out with this guy.” His attention returns to Spencer, “Our Sarah talks about college like she’s going next Fall, and at her reading level she isn’t far off. And Andy? Get him talking about dinosaurs and you’ll swear they still walk the Earth. Hannah, though, she’s going to be our Olympian. She swims like a fish. Ah, gee, look at me. I’m bragging your ear off. Sorry, the salesman doesn’t stop just because the sales pitch does! Now, who wants lasagna?”

“Me!” his children cheer, dragging their mother along to the kitchen behind him.

Luke hangs back, throwing an arm around Spencer’s shoulder, “So, that’s Carlos.”

Spencer will always have a soft spot for a proud father, so with a smile he declares, “I like him.”

Luke allows himself to be taken aback for only a second. “Well, good for Carlos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading and clicking that kudos button and commenting and subscribing and bookmarking! (deep breath) It's so exciting seeing you interact with my little world that is kind of my whole life right now. Stay healthy and happy, wonderful readers!


	22. Connecting Rooms

It is an accepted fact that every time a case involves child victims, it hits the team harder. There is just something about a life so innocent snuffed out so soon that is so much harder to process, and they all have their own coping mechanisms. Matt has taken out his wallet to look at the accordion insert of family photos at least a dozen times since they arrived. Tara forgoes her usual snack of fruits or veggies, instead buying something salty and sweet from a gas station. Prentiss chews on fingernails already ripped down to their quicks. Rossi is extra menacing when they round up the local pedophiles. JJ calls home to hear the sound of her sons’ voices right in the middle of the station. Spencer  _ reads reads reads _ and then info-dumps at the evidence board, not intending for anyone to hear him. Luke is listening, though. Luke is hovering. He isn’t close enough to touch, but he is near enough to take comfort in Spencer’s presence, in the sound of his voice and the smell of his detergent. 

The day ends with few leads, and they retire to the hotel with heavy hearts. They need to rest, to recharge, to let their active minds go blank so their subconsciouses can process. The hotel clerk lays out keycards on the desk and Spencer grabs, seems surprised to find two in his hand, and casually hands one of them to Luke. 

Luke thanks him absently, checks the room number, and trudges up the stairs. It’s nights like tonight that he could really use the closeness of his boyfriend, to drive home with him and lay in bed together and talk about  _ nothing _ to fight off the lurking and awful  _ something.  _ He doesn’t get that, though. They’re at work, where they pretend they aren’t together, so for tonight he’s alone with his thoughts. He showers simply for the ritual of cleansing, dresses in a shirt and underwear, and sits at the edge of the bed. His limbs feel heavy, his brain a buzzing blur. He can neither move nor remain still.

There’s a knock on the door. The wrong door. It isn’t coming from the entrance, but the door along the wall connecting to the next room. He wasn’t being loud, so this can’t be the angry bang of a bothered neighbor, but it was definitely a knock. He opens the door. Spencer waves at him.

“How…” is all Luke gets out.

“I utilized nationwide statistics about connecting rooms, applied them to known data about hotels this size and in this region, ran the room grouping parameters to predict the hotel’s schematic, and calculated which rooms would have just this door.”

Luke blinks. “Really?”

“No,” Spencer grins. “We stayed here before, three years ago. I  _ did _ have to guess that the layouts for the third and fifth floors are identical, and fortunately, they are.”

Luke laughs. It sounds strange, feels strange, after today.

“May I come in?”

“Yes,  _ please.” _

Spencer steps through the doorway and Luke pulls him to his chest, clinging to him, pressing his face into those honey-colored curls, “I need you.”

“I’m right here.”

Luke nods, breathing him in. “It’s so awful.”

“It is,” Spencer agrees, his own mind occupied by the case, as well. “This is going to sound callous, but we need to forget about it now. If we don’t, we won’t be able to focus tomorrow, and we won’t be able to help them.”

Luke nods. He knows this, but it still helps to hear it. “Talk to me about something stupid.”

“Most people would refer to these rooms as adjoining, but the correct term is connecting.” The information flows from his lips with ease. “Hotels use the term ‘adjoining’ to refer to rooms that share a wall, but not a private door, and some hotels even refer to rooms across the hall as adjoining, simply because they are nearby.”

“Yes,” Luke chuckles, finally feeling the happiness behind it. “Talk useless knowledge to me.”

“It is exceedingly rare for a hotel website to list which rooms are connecting, and often the front desk clerks won’t even know, making booking the rooms nearly impossible. But you know who always knows?”

“Management?”

“Housekeeping. Never underestimate the power of a master key and a cart full of chemicals.”

Luke laughs. He feels the tension leave his body with each humored huff and shake of his shoulders. 

Spencer pulls back enough to meet Luke’s eyes, caressing his cheek, “Let’s pick a bed. I want to hold you for a while.”

Luke loves the sound of that. He tugs Spencer toward the mattress that seems closest and yanks the sheet down, collapsing against the pillows. Spencer handles getting them covered, then scoops Luke into his arms. They lie there on their sides, Luke’s head against Spencer’s chest, Spencer rubbing Luke’s back as their breathing synchronizes. 

“I needed this,” Luke whispers.

“Me, too.”

Luke squeezes Spencer tighter against him, “Thank you.”

Spencer sighs, “You feel so good against me.”

Luke loosens his grip, pulling his face back enough to see Spencer’s, and Spencer leans forward to kiss him. It’s a sweet kiss with no demands, over quickly so Spencer can read his response. Luke’s tongue darts out over his lower lip. Spencer smiles, his fingers grazing along Luke’s hip. They find a strip of exposed flesh, where his shirt has ridden up on his stomach, and lightly tease along it. Luke gasps and Spencer dives in for another kiss.

“What are you planning?” Luke breathes against Spencer’s lips, gasping again as that hand travels further up below his shirt.

Spencer smiles down at him, “I’m seducing you.”

Luke moans, then quickly bites it off, “Rossi is in the next room.”

“Hmm…” Spencer blows cool air against Luke’s neck, and Luke jolts, hands gripping Spencer’s hips closer. “Then I’m seducing you for a very quiet makeout session.”

Luke’s laugh is shaky, his body twitching with want. “Can you do quiet?”

Spencer traces the shell of Luke’s ear with his tongue, then nips the lobe, “I’m highly motivated.”

Excitement jittering through his veins, Luke slides a hand up Spencer’s body to cup his head and guide it lower, turning away to expose sensitive flesh, silently begging. Spencer’s lips find  _ that _ spot behind his jaw and Luke has to bite his lip to keep from making a sound.

They’ve become skilled at telling each other  _ I love you _ through touch and kiss alone, but the words still need to be said. They’re whispered into the silent room, breathed against skin, murmured into darkening lips. 

Spencer leans to the side, giving Luke’s ear another nip and gently tugs with his teeth. Luke gasps, his whole body moving into Spencer’s, “So good…” Spencer does it again and Luke whimpers. He skims his fingers along the skin beneath Luke’s shirt, tracing over defined abdominal muscles, and moans low and needy directly into Luke’s open mouth. Luke digs his fingers into the small of Spencer’s back, slides them lower, pulling Spencer ever closer into him.

They’re amping up toward activities they need to avoid. Spencer allows cool air to flow between them and Luke stifles a whine.

“Shhh…” Spencer whispers, a hand smoothing through Luke’s hair. He sprinkles butterfly kisses over Luke’s face, soothing him.

Luke sighs, long and smooth. Then he laughs, a self-deprecating joke going unworded.

Spencer smiles down at him, hands still gentle comforts. He leans in, and this kiss is cool lemonade in the summer heat. Their kisses are swinging-on-a-hammock lazy, not trying to take them anywhere, just relaxing where they are. Warm sun and cool waves caressing the shore.

Spencer props his head on one hand to gaze down at Luke, his other hand softly tracing the angles and contours of his face. “You’re stunning,” Spencer whispers. “Sometimes I look at you and my brain stops working because I’m just… entranced.”

Luke has never received this particular compliment and doesn’t have the words to convey how powerfully it affects him, so he lets the awe in his expression communicate for him. As Spencer’s thumb ghosts over Luke’s lips, Luke gives the pad a quick kiss.

They’re tired. The long day may be pushed from their minds but its effects are still acute in their bodies. Luke slides his hand into Spencer’s, intertwining their fingers, “Stay with me?”

“Yes,” Spencer smiles, dropping his head down to their shared pillow.

“Comfy?”

Spencer snuggles in close, “Mmm- _ hmm.”  _

They whisper their love with their last slips of consciousness.

The team is as refreshed as they can be when dawn drags everyone back to the case. They have a breakthrough, which leads to more breakthroughs as dominoes in this criminal underbelly begin to fall against each other. They work the day away and while they don’t solve it they can taste how close they are. They need more interviews, to speak with people whose bedtime was hours ago, so they have to call it a night. Prentiss summons the team back in from the field and they convene in the hotel lobby to debrief. It’s clear they’re still itching to go back out, get more information, but at this hour they’d just be spinning their wheels in the mud. They break to go up to their rooms.

JJ turns back, seeing on her phone that it’s after midnight, “Oh, hey Spence! Happy birthday!”

“Oh!” Spencer is both surprised that the date snuck up on him and that anyone would bother to mention it during all this. “Thank you!”

The rest of the team offers their birthday wishes as they make their way up the stairs, Spencer thanking them all once they reach their floor.

It’s Spencer’s turn to receive a knock on that private door, though he’s expecting Luke to be on the other side. He’s still surprised by what he sees, still made giddy and excited. Luke is holding a vending machine muffin, unwrapped just enough for an unlit candle to stick out the top. “Happy birthday, Spencer. This was the closest thing I could find to cake.” He pulls out a lighter, rolling the spark a few times before the flame ignites, and then he lights the candle. He sings quietly, mindful of the team in nearby rooms, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Spencer, happy birthday to you.”

Spencer closes his eyes, feels his wish in the depths of him, and blows out the candle. His voice is low but still bursting, “Luke, thank you!”

Luke holds the muffin out to him, and when Spencer accepts it Luke puts up a single finger, “Hold on just a second.” He dashes back into his room, then returns with a bag, complete with crumpled tissue paper sticking out the top. “It got a little roughed up in my luggage, but the contents are unharmed.”

Emotions immediately overwhelm Spencer and he has to blink back tears, “You got me a present?”

“Of course I got you a birthday present. I’m your boyfriend.” He moves further into the room, setting the gift bag on the bed and pulling the muffin from Spencer’s hand to leave it next to the TV. Obstructions removed, he holds Spencer close. 

Spencer presses their cheeks together, “You got me a birthday present. Best boyfriend.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” Luke laughs. “I could have just gotten you socks.”

“I like socks.”

“Come on,” Luke starts to pull away, to lead him to the gift, but Spencer shakes his head.

“Five more seconds,” he requests, basking in their connection. 

Luke kisses him, feeling Spencer melt against him.

“Okay,” Spencer nods, a relaxed smile forming. “Present time.” He takes out each piece of tissue and lays it flat on the bed, then reaches in and pulls out what’s on top. He laughs loud, probably too loud, but he’s holding socks. Mismatched socks. 

Luke is grinning, clearly proud of his joke. “Their pairs are at home, but I know you like to mismatch them.”

Spencer nods emphatically, failing to gain control of himself, “I do.”

“And I like that about you.”

“Thank you.” He sets the socks on the bed so he can wipe away the tears that finally decided to fall, thankful they are tears of joy. There’s another item in the bag and Spencer pulls it out. It’s a book. He reads the title out loud, “The Works of Christopher Marlowe-” His voice cracks at the end of the name.

Luke explains, “It’s because of that poem you read to me, when you told me you love me that first time.”

Spencer nods vigorously, because  _ he knows.  _ Eidetic memory or not, he’ll never forget when he finally got to proclaim his love for Luke. 

“It was the best day of my life, when you did all that for me, and I just wanted to make sure you know how important it was to me. And also, I think you like the poet? I looked at your shelves and I didn’t see this book, but I did see collections from the English Renaissance, which I learned is when he was writing…”

“It’s perfect,” Spencer assures, and for at least the hundredth time since that first time, he says, “I love you.”

Luke sighs, “I love you, too.”

Spencer returns to Luke, kissing him with all the gratitude and love within him. Luke drags his hand down Spencer’s spine, and Spencer feels it instantly ground him.

“I’m too exhausted for even the quietest makeout session,” Luke jokes, “but I would love to just hold you tonight. If you’d like.”

_ “Yes,” _ Spencer urges, because truly nothing could sound better in this moment.

With Spencer’s face tucked into Luke’s shoulder, and Luke’s hand softly caressing Spencer’s back, they fall asleep. In the morning, they will catch their unsub and save his victim, and all his potential subsequent victims. They will win, and it will be a fantastic birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Alex, for requesting a birthday chapter. And thank you all for reading! I hope you're still enjoying my little story :-)


	23. Extra Tipsy

It’s Friday evening and Luke is giving Spencer a ride home. Even though Spencer’s bruises have all but healed, their shared commute has become commonplace enough that they don’t need to sacrifice it to keep up appearances at work. Unlike most evenings, Luke is actually driving Spencer to Spencer’s own home, an apartment that has been mostly abandoned in their need for togetherness. 

Spencer shuffles documents, organizing pages as his lips form the silent words of his thoughts. Luke’s voice is a distant call through the cluttered caverns of his mind and he has to physically shake his head to reawaken his senses, “What was that?”

Luke chuckles, used to this by now. “I was telling you some of my old Army buddies are in town. They’re just traveling through on business so they’re only here a few days, but they’re hanging out at Paddy’s tonight. That’s that Irish bar a few blocks from your place.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Spencer responds sincerely. “So you’re gonna go?”

“Yes. And I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join.”

Spencer’s face falls and he lifts the paperwork fanned out on his lap, “I’m sorry, I have to complete my syllabus approval forms. I promised to have them done by today and even though it’s way past business hours if I finish by midnight then it still counts.”

Luke turns away, trying to hide his disappointment, but Spencer knows him too well by now. Luke shrugs a single shoulder, as if not really caring, “That’s fine, it was really last minute, anyway.”

Spencer reaches across the center console to squeeze Luke’s knee, “But I’d really like to meet them. You said they’d be here all weekend. If we aren’t called away on a case, maybe we can invite them over tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Luke turns back toward him, suddenly excited again. 

“Yeah! I’ll make curry.”

“That’d be great! Thank you.”

“Of course,” Spencer smiles to himself, pleased with how quickly he can lift Luke’s spirits. “You should still go tonight, have fun. I’m just going to be scribbling on these for hours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to be very boring tonight.”

“Okay. Would it be all right if I came over afterward?”

“Please do! It will give me something to look forward to. Maybe I’ll even be done by the time you arrive.”

Luke parks on the street near Spencer’s building, planning to walk to and from the bar. They kiss on the sidewalk, a sweet goodbye. Luke rubs his thumb along Spencer’s jaw, “Have fun.”

“I won’t, but I hope you will. I’ll see you later. Walk home safe.”

“Will do. I love you!”

“Love you.” Documents clutched to his chest, Spencer watches Luke walk away until he turns a corner, and then he climbs home to tackle academic bureaucracy. It takes him longer than even his pessimism anticipated, but he’s done before Luke’s return. He stands, alone in his apartment, and it feels strange, which in itself is strange since for so many years this was his norm, but now his norm is Luke. He wonders, after spending hours writing about abnormal psychology, if they are becoming codependent, but then he realizes he doesn’t care. Whatever they have together, he wants it.

There’s a knock at the door and he rushes for it, hoping it’s Luke. He’s not disappointed. There’s a man with him, arm over Luke’s shoulders, and he shouts a little too loudly when the door opens, “Special drunk-livery!”

Spencer quickly waves them in, hoping to contain the noise with his closed door.

“I’m not drunk,” Luke argues. “I’m extra tipsy. I know this,” he shoves a finger in his friend’s face, “because you’re still ugly.”

“It’s worse than I thought,” the friend looks to Spencer, his speech only slightly slurred. “He’s drunk _and_ blind.” He laughs at his joke as he disentangles from Luke, thrusting a hand out, “I’m Bill. You must be Spencer.”

Spencer shakes the offered hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Bill. Thank you for getting him home, even if he is both drunk and blind.”

“Hah!” Bill laughs abruptly. “You’re funny. It’s nice to meet the man who makes this guy blush,” he points at Luke with his thumb.

“Hey,” Luke backhands Bill in the chest, and doesn’t seem to try and be gentle about it, “none of that. I still need him to think I’m cool.” He waggles his eyebrows at Spencer.

“Good luck with that!” Bill hoots. “All right, I’m not trying to intrude on your work thing. I just wanted to make sure this guy got in all right.” He thumps Luke’s back.

“Would you like anything before you go?” Spencer offers. “Water, a banana?”

Bill gives him a baffled look for a moment before he shakes his head, “Nah, cab’s waiting, but I will see you two hopefully tomorrow. Have your people call my people. Goodnight, Gracie!” He bows, wobbles a bit on the rise, and exits stage left. 

Luke stares at Spencer with a goofy grin, and Spencer notes with relief that he isn’t swaying and his voice has seemed clear. 

“Did you have fun?” Spencer asks, already knowing the answer.

“I did! Did you finish your paperwork?”

“I did.”

“Oh, good! I’m glad. I need coffee.” He turns toward the kitchen.

“Actually, coffee is a diuretic which will exacerbate dehydration. What you need is water and a banana.”

“A banana?”

“For the electrolytes.” Spencer walks past him, bringing back a full glass and a banana that is more brown than yellow, but he’s not around enough for the freshest produce. 

Luke accepts this remedy, gulping down the hydration and taking a bite of the fruit. He chews slowly and frowns, “This is not a very good banana.”

“Sorry. I assure you the nutrients are intact.”

Luke shrugs in agreement, taking another bite and chewing it as little as possible before choking it down, then going in for more like a champ. He stuffs the spent peel into the empty glass and Spencer takes it back to the kitchen.

When Spencer returns, he takes Luke’s hand and guides him to the couch, sitting next to him, “How are you feeling?”

“Extra tipsy,” Luke laughs at his term. 

“Are you gonna be okay? Would you like something more substantial on your stomach? I can make you something.” Spencer starts to rise from his seat, but Luke lays a hand on his thigh.

“I’ll be fine. I just want to sit here with you.”

Spencer eases back down, smiling.

Luke reaches out, caressing Spencer’s cheek and smiling at him adoringly, “You’re so pretty. I think that’s what first struck me about you. You’re handsome, but you’re _so pretty.”_ He isn’t slurring, but the alcohol has definitely loosened his lips.

Spencer ducks his blushing face, “You’re pretty, too.”

“But that’s just the physical! Your mind is _amazing._ I just want to curl up and listen to you talk about _things.”_

Spencer chuckles fondly, “What would you like to hear about?”

Luke considers. “Tell me about your favorite book.”

“My boyfriend got it for me for my birthday,” Spencer smiles.

Touched, Luke melts, leaning forward for a kiss. 

When he pulls away, Spencer grimaces playfully, “That wasn’t a very good banana.”

Luke shakes his head, “It wasn’t. But you made me eat it, so this is your punishment. Banana kisses.”

Spencer giggles against his lips and accepts his banana kisses honorably. “Okay, let’s brush our teeth and go to bed.”

“Will you hold me?” Luke asks hopefully. 

“Of course I will.” Nothing makes Spencer happier. He helps Luke to his feet. Luke doesn’t need the assistance, but they will gladly accept any excuse to touch each other. 

Spencer pulls a pair of pyjamas from his drawer and steps into the cotton pants. Before he can slide on the top, Luke wraps his arms around him from behind, fingers grazing his belly. “I like you like this,” Luke gives his shoulder a wet kiss. “Your skin is so soft.” Spencer tosses the shirt on the dresser and spins in Luke’s hold for a proper minty kiss.

They cuddle close under the comforter, Luke pillowed on one poorly defined pectoral muscle as he traces the fading yellow marks of that nearly-gone bruise. He drops a kiss on Spencer’s sternum, “Will you pet my hair? I love when you pet my hair…”

Spencer does so instantly. He’d do anything for this extra-tipsy man. He smooths down the locks, then slides his fingernails into the scalp until Luke is practically purring. It takes less than a minute for Luke to fall asleep and he’s still smiling into Spencer’s skin.

Private First Class Luke Alvez is on watch. He’s perched on the rubble surrounding their encampment, weapon at the ready. There was intel that insurgents might strike within the area so his eyes are peeled for any movement, but it only takes a spark of imagination to see the neighborhood that was once here, the homes that were once cared for with pride, the families who once thrived. He thinks of his own home. The comparisons between Ramadi and New York aren’t obvious, but in the Bronx neighbors take care of each other, care about each other, and the people here did, too, until foreign planes struck foreign buildings and foreign governments had their say.

The first shot comes seemingly from nowhere and hits the rock Luke is sitting on. He dives for cover, shouting a warning into his radio before aiming to return fire. Bullets send sharp pieces of rock flying and fill the air with exploding dust. Then more shots come from behind him as his team takes the offensive. There’s a grunt and Luke turns to see Kozlov fall, but he can’t get distracted. They have to fight until they’re safe enough to help their wounded. Luke keeps shooting.

There’s a pained shout behind him as another falls. Another soldier, another team member, another friend. Someone is shouting for reinforcements, but they came into this knowing they were stretched thin. Luke keeps shooting.

A barrage comes from the left, a new direction, and they’re surrounded. More shouts into the radio. More grunts. Luke keeps shooting.

“It’s okay, Luke.” Spencer’s voice is close. Luke turns his head to see him standing next to him. He can’t be here. It isn’t safe. Spencer is wearing a damn sweater vest in a warzone. He’s going to get hurt!

Spencer clutches his chest, his ribs, and the words “shot in the vest” scream like panic in Luke’s mind. Spencer is talking, his lips are moving, and Luke can barely make out the words, “You’re safe.”

“Get down!” Luke shouts back. He isn’t safe, but what matters is that Spencer isn’t safe. “Get down!”

“It’s a nightmare,” Spencer tells him calmly, bullets whizzing by his head. “I know it’s scary, but it isn’t real. You’re safe.”

There’s a hand in Luke’s hair, gently petting. 

Silence reigns, a ceasefire. 

“You’re safe.”

Luke is alone in the rubble. No blood, no fallen companions, no enemy insurgents. 

“You’re safe.”

Ramadi slips away. Luke is in Spencer’s bedroom, street lights throwing familiar shadows, and Spencer is petting his hair, “You’re safe, Luke.”

Luke turns to face him, to let him know he’s awake, and the worry on Spencer’s face eases into a smile.

“Hey,” Spencer doesn’t stop petting.

Luke wraps himself around Spencer, resting his ear on his chest to let the steady rhythm of his heart calm him, “Thank you.”

Spencer presses a kiss into the top of Luke’s head, and they both fall back to sleep.

Spencer awakens to a warm hand sliding down his back. It caresses his waist, gives his hip a gentle squeeze, travels up his spine, and massages his shoulder, before repeating the trip. He lets out a happy moan.

“Feels good?” Luke checks, his voice morning-rough.

“Mmm-hmm,” Spencer confirms, careful not to move lest the ministrations cease. Luke keeps it up and Spencer soaks it in.

“I remember last night.” Luke lays a kiss between Spencer’s shoulder blades that sends tingles along his nerves.

“You didn’t seem that drunk.”

The hand stills, “I meant the nightmare.”

Spencer’s breath hitches and he twists around, suddenly needing to see him. “Are you okay?”

Luke huffs out a laugh, “My boyfriend astral-projected into a warzone to come save me. I’m fine.”

Ghosting knuckles over Luke’s cheek, Spencer silently waits to see if he has more to say.

Luke leans into the touch, flashes a smile, but then his face goes distant. “I haven’t had one of those dreams in a long time.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer strokes with his fingers, comforting.

“It was a gunfight in a war with many gunfights. Lost some people, good people, but I walked out unscathed.” He frowns, realizing that last part isn’t true. Just because a soldier isn’t bloodied, that doesn’t mean they’re _unscathed._

“I’m sorry,” is a sympathetic whisper.

Luke accepts it with a nod. “I guess seeing them last night brought it all back. It was worth it, though. They’re great. Well,” Luke looks sheepish, “when they aren’t quite so drunk.”

“Bill seemed fine,” Spencer assures.

Luke pulls Spencer close for morning cuddles, kissing his temple, “I bet you’re a cute drunk.”

“I’m a never-drunk, actually.”

“Really?” Luke’s surprised. “Never?”

Spencer replies plainly, “They frown at that at the meetings.”

Luke smirks, “The Genius Meetings? Because it kills brain cells?”

A smile ghosts over his lips at that, but then he looks serious, “Beltway Clean Cops.”

Luke pulls away to look at him, his face pinched with concern, “The group for alcoholics? Are you…”

Spencer shakes his head, “My issue isn’t with alcohol, except that intoxication risks relapse so I moderate my consumption.” He swallows, clears his throat, but doesn’t turn away from Luke, “My addiction is narcotics. I’m in recovery. I haven’t imbibed in ten years, four months, and nineteen days.”

“Wait,” Luke shakes a memory loose, “ten years ago. I remember, that unsub with DID, Hankel, the one who drugged you. That’s not… You can’t...” He’s ready to defend Spencer, ready to tell him this isn’t his fault.

“He did,” Spencer nods. “But I then continued the habit for one hundred twenty-seven days. I’m an addict.”

Luke looks troubled, brows furrowed and eyes distant, and _now_ Spencer feels the need to look away. There was certainly a better way to approach this subject, probably better timing as well. He worries his lip, trapped in the awkward silence of his confession’s making.

“Is…” Luke finally speaks, struggling with the words. “Is there something I can do? Something I shouldn’t do? To help?”

“Don’t do Dilaudid,” Spencer replies with a straight face. “I can not stress that enough.”

Luke squints, puzzles, then breaks out laughing.

Spencer smiles, chuckling himself. “I’m not asking you to change your life. I’m telling you this because it is a part of mine. You can drink, you can get drunk, it won’t bother me. Last night was fine. But, _I_ won’t get drunk.” He adds as an afterthought in the hopes that it will humor, “I also won’t get high, which is the really important part.”

Luke just nods, his mind still processing. “That’s why you only got Tylenol for your ribs.”

“Yes. I have to avoid opioids.”

“Okay, I’ll remember that,” Luke vows sincerely. “What else?”

“That’s basically it. I haven’t had a craving in six years. I still go to meetings sometimes; my addiction is managed.”

Luke blows out a long breath. “Addiction and PTSS, and we haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.”

This surprises a laugh out of Spencer, “We probably should.” He starts to rise, but Luke tugs him into his chest, hugging him warmly.

“We will, but you just told me a lot there, and I want to do something cheesy by reminding you you’re amazing and I still love you. So. You’re amazing. I love you very much.”

Spencer didn’t realize how much he needed this assurance, but now that he has it it fills something in him, a part he didn’t realize was empty. “Wow,” he breathes out, “thank you.”

Luke gives one last big squeeze. “Okay, now we can get up.” He stands, stretches languidly, his joints popping like fireworks. He groans, rolling his head to loosen his neck, “Your banana thing worked, I feel great. You really are a genius!”

“I’m glad,” Spencer chuckles, taking comfort from the warmth of the covers for just a moment longer.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Luke announces.

Spencer gives a non-committal hum of acknowledgement, rubbing sleep from his eye. Luke hasn’t move yet, and Spencer turns to see why.

Luke is smirking down at him, “Wanna join me?”

Spencer gasps excitedly, leaping from the blankets, “Yes!”

They pick up curry ingredients on their way to Luke’s place, and the kitchen is quickly filled with the tantalizing aromas of warm onions, garlic, and ginger. They work together, chopping and scooping into the pan all the vegetables, and once it’s simmering Luke gives Roxy a nice long walk while Spencer tidies up the kitchen. 

“They should be here in an hour!” Luke calls into the apartment as soon as he swings open the door.

“Excellent,” Spencer pops out of the kitchen to greet him. “I just started the rice cooker.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but they wanted to bring over some beers and asked what you like, so I told them you don’t really drink. I didn’t tell them why or anything.”

“That’s fine,” Spencer is quick to assure a boundary hasn’t been crossed. “And they _can_ bring alcohol, it honestly is fine.”

“I’m sure they still will,” Luke laughs. “Plus, I always have some in my fridge.”

Luke’s phone chirps in his pocket and they both fix it with a warning glare. “No cases,” he commands as he slides it out, turning on the screen tentatively as if it might explode. He sighs, a smile brightening his face, “Baby pictures.”

“Ooh!” Spencer darts over. “Let me see!” Lucia hasn’t gained any new tricks in the past week, but her eyes are open in this image and she’s reaching for the camera, toward whichever beloved parent is behind it. Spencer leans his head into Luke’s shoulder as they gaze at their little niece. The phone chirps again, this time with a text message.

 _Analise Diaz → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _I was showing her those word books you got her and I can tell she is already starting to understand. This kid is going to Yale._

An hour later, Luke swings open his door and in walk his old army buddies. They all shout their greetings, slapping backs and hugging roughly. "Guys, it's great you could come!" Luke steps aside, letting them in while revealing Spencer standing patiently behind him. "This is Spencer Reid. Spencer, you remember Bill Hayden from last night, and these are Theresa Ricci, and Alan Nguyen."

"It's nice to meet you all, and you again, Bill" Spencer steps forward, hand outstretched. 

Theresa grasps it for a strong shake, "Likewise. Been looking forward to finally seeing the boyfriend in person."

"His name is Spencer," Luke reminds pointedly.

"Actually," Spencer smiles, "I like the title. Bill. Alan," he shakes their hands in turn before habit has him discreetly sliding his hand into his pocket.

"I'm gonna get you guys some beers," Luke ducks into the kitchen.

"Actually," Alan jiggles a clear bottle in the air, "We brought our own. It's tonic and lemonade. Thought we'd all have a mocktail night."

Spencer and Luke exchange a quick, meaningful look. This is because of Spencer. They know he doesn't really drink, they don't know why, and they're accommodating him with a friendly effort. "Thank you," Spencer says sincerely. "Uh, glasses with ice, then?" He helps his boyfriend gather those and they all sit around the table, Theresa taking the extra chair from the living room.

"So," Bill smacks a pack of cards on the table in front of Spencer, "You ever play poker?"

"Poker?"

"Yeah, we used to play at the basecamp to pass the time. But don't worry," he grins, "Luke likes you, so I'll go easy on you."

Spencer nods slowly. He picks up the pack and spills the cards into his hand, then clumsily starts to shuffle. A few cards slide across the table.

"I got it," Bill chuckles good-naturedly and grabs the cards, giving them a respectable shuffle. He deals them out and sets the limits.

For the first few rounds, Spencer is timid. He bets low, frowns at his cards, and folds quickly. On the fourth hand, he chews his bottom lip, a single shoulder barely shrugging. "I'll... bet half." He slides a stack of chips into the pot.

Bill squints at him, then smiles, "I'll call you. And raise you." He slides in a high bet.

"That means I need to bet more?" Spencer confirms with the table.

"On your next turn," Luke says gently, giving him an encouraging smile.

"I'm out," Alan tosses his cards down.

"Me, too," Luke agrees.

"Yep, it's all you two," Theresa folds.

Spencer takes his time counting up Bill's raise. "I think...I have to put in all my tokens..."

"Chips," Bill chuckles under his breath.

Spencer nods, going all in.

Bill tosses his hand down face-up and announces, "Straight. King high."

Spencer lays his cards out with flare, "Full house, Jacks over threes." He pulls the pot toward himself then, with one fluid motion, collects everyone's cards and shuffles them with the skill of a magician who's been mastering card tricks for nearly thirty years. "You're welcome to take out a loan, but the house keeps ten percent of all winning until the debt is paid."

Bill stares at him, mouth slack, "Did you just..." He turns to Luke, "Did he just hustle me?"

"You sealed your fate when you said you'd go easy on him!" Luke laughs.

He turns back to Spencer, "So, you're good at poker?"

"I excel at poker," Spencer corrects. He slides a stack of chips back to Bill, "But I'll go easy on you."

"Oh-ho!" Bill cackles. "That's it, next visit to Atlantic City, you're coming with me. Luke, you're welcome to join, but Mr. Ace In The Hole here sits at my table."

"Just buy him dinner first," Luke jokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	24. Hamilton

JJ is singing, rocking her head to the beat, tune familiar on her lips, “So, listen to my declaration: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal,’ and when I meet Thomas Jefferson I'm a' compel him to include women in the sequel, work!” On the last word, it dawns on her that she’s at work, sitting at her desk in the bullpen, her coworkers looking up from their paperwork with bemused expressions. “Sorry…”

“Hamilton?” Spencer guesses, and he already knows the answer. JJ has been humming the soundtrack for weeks now.

“Yeah,” her smile is giddy as she wags in her chair, “we’re finally seeing it tonight!”

“You know,” Spencer adds, “I read the script when it first became popular and Hamilton is remarkably accurate for a Broadway show.”

“Will and I have been waiting to see it for a month now, and we are so excited!”

“Careful,” Matt warns with a foreboding tone, “you’re tempting the Case Fates there.”

“Nope!” JJ adamantly refuses. “Everything is going to go perfectly. Will is already making the kids’ dinner, the babysitter will be arriving any minute, and it’s 5:00 now so I’m getting out of here.” She hops to her feet, grabs her bag, and is halfway to the elevator before the well-wishes have a chance to catch her.

“Have fun!” Spencer calls as she disappears. The rest of the team follows her out at a sedate pace, having no pressing plans to hurry them.

Spencer goes home with Luke, thinking about JJ and her exciting plans for the evening while they take Roxy out for a pee stroll. “We should go out somewhere.”

“Yeah?” Luke is half paying attention, supervising the investigative sniff of a tree trunk.

“Yes. We haven’t been out since our third date.”

“All right.” It's an easy agreement. “Where would you like to go?”

“Nothing too fancy. I don’t want to have to go home and change.”

“How about sushi?”

“That works!”

“We can go as soon as this dog finally pees. What is taking you so long, Girl?”

“Janie probably took her out already. Roxy is just sating her curiosity now.”

“Curiosity?” Luke bends down to look his dog in the eye, “How curious could you be? You walk by this tree every day.”

Spencer’s phone rings and he answers it automatically with, “Dr. Reid.”

“Spence!” JJ’s voice sounds frantic over the line. “Hey, I have a huge favor to ask you! Are you busy tonight? Could you possibly watch Henry and Michael? Their babysitter just fell through and I know this is last minute but we’ve had these tickets for a month and… please?”

Spencer takes a few steps back from Luke, turning away to give this conversation some privacy, “Is it okay if I bring a friend?”

“I assume you mean Luke. Yes, you absolutely can. I’d agree to just about anything right now. No, that’s not true. I’m not a bad mom, I shouldn’t even joke- I just really want to see Hamilton!”

“We’ll do it,” Spencer vows, hearing the desperation in his friend’s voice. 

“Really? Oh, Spence, you don’t even know what this means to me! Thank you so much!” Will can be heard in the background and JJ pulls away from the phone to address him, “He’ll do it!”

“Thank you, Spence!” Will cries. “Boys, can you thank your Uncle Spence?” They do, little voices calling happily.

“Spence,” JJ takes back the phone, “do you think you could get here soon?”

“Yes! Yes, we will leave here… soon.”

“Okay, see you soon! Thank you so much!” She hangs up, presumably to finish getting ready in the time it will take Luke to drive them there.

Spencer turns around to see Luke watching him curiously, and Spencer has to confess, “I just volunteered us to watch JJ’s kids.” His face is an apology.

Luke snorts, waving a finger in the air, “Matt told her she was tempting fate.”

“Our fate, it would seem. And she’s requested we hurry.”

“All right, well this dog isn’t peeing, so let’s get her back inside and we can head out.”

They arrive in just under forty minutes, which seems to have been the absolute maximum amount of time JJ could wait because she is giving the turbo version of her typical babysitting rundown, “The boys were just given jambalaya and there’s more on the stove if you want. My phone will be on vibrate but you can call me with anything; we have aisle seats. The emergency numbers are on the fridge-”

“JJ, it’s fine, I’ve done this before. Go go!” Spencer assures.

JJ breathes, then throws a hug at Spencer, “Thank you again!” She grabs Luke with equal exuberance, “Thank you so much!” She takes Will’s hand and drags him out the door.

Henry and Michael are sitting politely at the dining table, watching the activity in the entry with mouths full of creole spices. Henry greets around a bite, “Hi, Uncle Spencer!”

“Hi, guys!” Spencer’s enthusiasm is genuine. “You remember Uncle Luke, right?”

Two blonde heads bob in a nod. 

“Did you bring Roxy?” Henry asks, eyes wide with hope despite all evidence to the contrary.

“Nah, she had to stay home, sorry. But what do you have there? It looks delicious!”

“Jamabaya!” Michael squeals, his little mouth struggling to fit around such a big word.

“There’s some in the kitchen. Mom said you can have some.” Henry is clearly disappointed, whether by the absence of Roxy, being left out of his parents’ plans, or some other juvenile drama it’s impossible to know. 

“I’ll get us some,” Spencer offers and aways to the kitchen.

Luke drops into the chair across from Henry, within an arm’s reach of Michael. He raps his knuckles twice on the wooden table and looks at Henry expectantly. Henry just frowns, confused, so Luke explains like it’s obvious, “Knock knock.”

Henry side-eyes him skeptically before relenting, “Who’s there?”

“Justin.”

He’s still squinting, challenging Luke to make this a good one. “Justin who?’

“Justin time for dinner!” Luke smiles smugly.

Henry’s shoulders jiggle in the barest hint of a laugh.

“Knock knock” Luke goes for another.

“Who’s there?” comes more easily this time.

“Lettuce.”

“Lettuce who?”

“I’m glad you lettuce in, it was cold out there.”

Henry snorts, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Michael giggles just to be included, a piece of chewed sausage falling back into his bowl.

“Knock knock,” Luke whips out the third in what these children don’t know is a limitless supply of silly jokes.

Henry and Michael both respond this time, “Who’s there?”

“Wooden shoe.”

“Wooden shoe who?” they continue in unison.

“Wooden shoe like to hear another? Knock knock!”

“Who’s there?” They’re excited now.

“Interrupting dinosaur.”

“Interr-”

“ROAR!” Luke throws up hands bent like claws as he lunges playfully at both boys, and by the time Spencer returns the kids are both laughing too hard to eat. Spencer shows his gratitude with a quick squeeze to Luke’s wrist as he sets down his bowl, and they dig in.

Luke clears the dishes, leaving Spencer to hang out with the kiddos.

“What’s Hamilton about?” Henry asks, looking once again a tad demure. It’s clear now that’s what’s bothering him.

“It’s about Alexander Hamilton, one of the founding fathers of this country. He fought alongside George Washington in the Revolutionary War, using his intelligence to help America become independent from British rule. He then went on to design institutions that helped build this country.”

Henry nods politely, but he’s clearly unenthused with this history lesson.

Spencer goes for another approach. He pulls out his wallet and lays a ten dollar bill on the table, tapping the pictured face before sliding it between the boys. His rap skills leave much to be desired, but he can compensate with perfect recall of the lyrics, with edits in respect to the age of his audience, “How does an orphan and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by Providence impoverished in squalor grow up to be a hero and a scholar?” He taps the bill again. “The Ten dollar, founding father without a father got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a self-starter. By fourteen, they placed him in charge of a trading charter. Then a hurricane came and devastation rained. Our man saw his future drip-dripping down the drain. Put a pencil to his temple, connected it to his brain and he wrote his first refrain, a testament to his pain.” 

Both boys are smiling, hanging on every word.

Spencer continues, “Well the word got around they said this kid is amazing. Took up a collection just to send him to the mainland. Get your education, don't forget from whence you came. And the world is gonna know your name.” He jumps to his feet, pointing to Henry, “What's ya name, man?”

“Alexander Hamilton!” Henry shouts, arms in the air and legs kicking excitedly, he’s clearly gleefully proud to know this part of the song.

“Yeah!” Spencer cheers, holding out his hands for both kids to high-five. 

Luke’s voice booms lyrically from the kitchen, “Rise up! Rise up! Here he comes!”

Spencer knows this part, he knows every part, so without missing a beat he calls back, “Here comes the General!”

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Luke continues.

Spencer gets the boys to join in, “Here comes the General!”

“The moment you’ve been waiting for!”

“Here comes the General!” Six eyes are glued in anticipation to the archway that separates the kitchen.

“The pride of Mount Vernon!”

“Here comes the General!”

“George Washington!” Luke emerges with flourish. He has a folded white dish towel over his head, a low budget powdered wig, and a wooden spoon in front of his mouth in homage to the fabled dentures of our first president, and his stature is impressively regal.

Henry rushes to Luke, taking him in. Michael squeals in his seat and Spencer just stares at his boyfriend in awe.

Luke looks down at Henry, “Alexander Hamilton, I hear you’ll be joining me in battle. We must defeat the Red Coats.”

“The Red Coats are coming!” Henry remembers his fourth grade history class and puts it to excellent use. He points at Spencer and cries out, “It’s the King of England! Run!” He grabs Luke’s hand and tugs him away.

Luke laughs, tossing the large spoon on the table, and follows along good-naturedly. He looks back at Spencer with a challenge in his eye, “Ready your defenses, Your Highness.” He catches a flash of Spencer’s Planning Face, that clever mind going to work, and he’s yanked into Henry’s bedroom.

Henry goes straight for his box of toys, pulls out a cowboy hat, and plants it firmly on his head to declare, “I’m a cowboy and you’re George Washington and we have to defeat the Red Coats.”

“Yup.” Luke is very down for this plan. “We need weapons.”

Henry digs in that box again, producing a toy gun complete with buttons that light the thing up with sci-fi laser sounds. 

Luke imagines getting beaned in the head with that hard plastic as an excited nine-year-old goes for a flying tackle, and makes a quick amendment, “We need non-lethal weapons. If we take their King alive, they’ll have to surrender. I have an idea. Follow me!” He peeks into two doorways before finding the bathroom. There he finds a pack of toilet paper and waves it enticingly in front of Henry, “Smoke grenades. We find where they’re hiding and smoke them out, then we attack. It’s foolproof.” He opens the pack and hands two rolls to Henry, then carries the rest out with them. 

“Okay,” Luke kneels down to Henry’s height, “We’re going to have to be spies. Let’s go see what the English are up to.” He puts a finger to his lips, and Henry does the same, and they tiptoe down the hallway.

Spencer and Michael are building a fort. More accurately, Spencer is using couch cushions and pillows to build a fort against the love seat, and Michael is using his body as a battering ram to destroy the forming structure, but Spencer works faster than Michael so a fort is being built.

“You have to see where the enemy is making camp,” Luke whispers, “so you know where to attack.”

“Okay,” Henry whispers back, taking this very seriously.

Without looking away from his task, Spencer calls out a warning, “England hears you!”

Henry gasps, eyes wide in surprise, and he races to the safety of his room.

Luke calls back to his boyfriend, “England looks pretty cute right now!” before following Henry.

Henry is looking around his room, face pinched in determination. Luke looks around as well, spotting a Spiderman Halloween costume hanging in the closet. He gets an idea, “You need armor. Here,” he grabs the costume off the hanger and presents it like one would bestow a medieval sword, “wear this.” It’s baggy enough to be pulled on over his clothes, and Luke helps him with the string in the back.

Henry looks Luke up and down, frowning at the lack of superhero adornment. “What about your armor?”

Luke nods slowly, thinking for a second, then grabs a blanket off the bed. He tosses it over his shoulders and ties it loosely around his neck, “It’s my cape.”

Henry cocks his head to the side, “George Washington didn’t have a cape.”

Luke blinks down at him. _This_ is the historical inaccuracy the kid’s going to get hung up on? “Maybe if he did, he’d have won the war faster.” Henry accepts this argument.

“All right, Hamilton,” Luke straightens the boy’s hat, “are you ready for battle?”

He holds up his two rolls of toilet paper and nods intently, “Yes!”

Luke crouches down and lowers his voice, “All right, we’re going to sneak up on them again.” They soft-foot it down the hall, peering into the living room to see the fully-formed fort. Michael’s little shoe is just barely visible beneath an afghan. “Here’s the plan,” Luke whispers, this time making sure he isn’t heard by the English forces, “We throw these smoke bombs, wait for them to come out, then we run in there. Good?”

“Good,” Henry whispers in return, and then the plan goes out the window as he rushes into the living room and launches forward to dive bomb that fort. There is a horrible moment where Luke imagines Henry crushing little Michael beneath the cushions, and his body moves into action, catching Henry mid-air and lifting him in a Superman pose. This is when Luke notices Michael’s little shoe isn’t attached to Michael’s little body. It’s a ruse. 

A pillow smacks Luke in the hip. “Boom!” Michael cheers, leaping up from his hiding place beside the sofa and wrapping himself around Luke’s leg.

“Nice job!” Spencer congratulates his comrade, clearly surprised at his success. He rises up from behind the sofa and drops into the wingback chair, “England is prepared to accept your surrender.”

“What, you make him fight your battles for you?” Luke lifts his laden leg to wiggle Michael about, earning delighted giggles. “This, Your Highness, is why we’re fighting for independence.”

Spencer sends Luke a quick affectionate smile to show he appreciated the joke, and then he’s back in character, prim index finger raised to make a point, “I do, in fact, make him fight my battles. The last English monarch to lead their troops into battle was King George The Second, incidentally my grandfather, and that was over thirty years before the American Revolution.” He stops himself there from getting too bogged down with the details. “So, yes, I will sit here on my throne and just _hope_ the Americans can’t get me.” He rests his arms outward, making himself a perfect target.

Luke lowers Henry to the ground and whispers into his hair, “Get ‘im.”

Henry leaps, roaring as he lands on Spencer’s lap.

“Oh no!” Spencer lifts Henry above him, making the child seem more menacing. “England!”

Michael lets go of Luke and joins his brother on the attack, climbing clumsily up to Spencer’s knees and giving an adorable roar himself.

Setting Henry on one thigh, Spencer scoops Michael safely onto the other, “You’re supposed to be on my side, you turncoat!”

The English King falls, but then a TARDIS appears to defend the country in battle, and then Spiderman turns the tide in America’s favor, and in the end it turns out Henry was secretly the King of England all along, so it’s difficult to tell who wins. All four boys wind up collapsed in joyous exhaustion amidst pillows and toilet paper rolls.

“We’ve made a mess,” Spencer laughs breathlessly.

Luke looks around, “Let’s just tell JJ they did it.”

Henry crosses his arms, scolding with just enough sass that for a moment he is the perfect rendition of his mother, _“You’re_ the adults.”

To cover for their laughter, Spencer asks excitedly, “Do you guys want to hang out in a fort tonight?”

“We broke the fort…” Henry laments.

Spencer leans forward like this is an exciting secret, “I can rebuild it.”

“Yeah?” Henry wiggles happily.

“Yes, but first, we must clean up. It’s the first rule of fort-building,” Spencer declares.

Henry frowns, “Do we have to?”

Luke rises, looking very put-out, “I guess I could do it all myself, but there’s something wrong with my hands…” He looks at his hands like they’re foreign objects, “I don’t think I can pick anything up.” With a playful cry, he scoops Michael under one arm and Henry under the other, “I need you to be my robot hands for me!” He leans forward to allow their short arms to reach the clutter. “Grab the toilet paper!”

Henry is able to hold onto three rolls, but Michael is just amused at being held at this angle. Luke tries to encourage him to grab a roll, and even Henry is backing up the command, when Michael picks up a pillow.

“Close enough,” Luke decides. This is valuable fort-building material, so he tells the young child, “Throw that at Uncle Spencer.”

This is a mistake. Things immediately devolve into a Throw Things At Spencer Game.

Spencer catches something just before it can smack him in the face, “Hey, battle’s over!”

Luke lifts the boys so they can’t reach any more ammunition, “No more throwing! You’re gonna get me in trouble. You’re just going to pick up toilet paper and hold it tight, okay?”

Henry instantly agrees, but Michael doesn’t respond. 

“Michael? Okay?”

“Yes.” His response could mean just about anything at his age. He’s a real wild card here, but Luke risks it, lowering them back down to the brunt of the mess. Toilet paper rolls are collected and he carries the boys to the bathroom. The plastic wrapping is long gone, but they stack the rolls on a shelf and it’s almost possible JJ won’t notice. It takes three trips, and by the time they finish there is a very respectable fort awaiting two tuckered boys.

They crawl in, explore the limited confines, and lay down on their tummies with their chins resting adorably on their hands.

“Uncle Spencer?” Henry asks, sleep already coloring his voice. “Do you think our Hamilton was better than the real Hamilton?”

“Absolutely,” Spencer enthuses without skipping a beat. “Our Hamilton had Spiderman.”

It’s late when JJ and Will arrive home. The house is quiet, but once they shut the door they see everyone in the living room. Their children are cuddled together in a cushion fort, and Luke and Spencer are seated on a blanket from Henry’s room, cross-legged with their knees touching and their hands entwined.

Spencer waves, a bright yet sleepy smile on his face, and JJ notes with pride that he doesn’t pull away from Luke in her presence. 

The babysitters rise, their bodies protesting how long they were on the floor, and they quietly meet Will and JJ in the entry. 

“How were they?” Will asks, voice low.

“We had fun. Henry may be confused come his next American History exam, but overall it was a success,” Spencer replies thoughtfully. “How was the show?”

“Amazing,” JJ’s eyes roll back at the memory. “Thank you so much, again, for doing this for us. Are you going to be good getting home? I know it’s late.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luke throws his arm around Spencer’s shoulders in time for Spencer to yawn, but he’s nodding in agreement. They hug their sleepy goodbyes and Luke and Spencer head for the Subaru.

Spencer squeezes their joined hands, “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“You volunteered me!” Luke jokes.

Spencer looks at him seriously, “You could have stayed home.”

Luke shakes his head, stopping on the sidewalk to give Spencer a kiss. “This was _much_ better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all make me so excited to update now! Your responses, and just seeing you're still reading, it's amazing! Thank you thank you thank you!


	25. Pink Ball

They’re enjoying a lazy Sunday morning in Luke’s bed, Luke propped up on pillows playing a brightly-colored game on his phone, and Spencer curled against Luke’s chest reading a book. Roxy is taking up the foot of the bed and has somehow commandeered the majority of the blankets. Luke runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s honey-colored curls and Spencer drags his eyes from the pages for a languid kiss. 

Luke sets down his phone to skim the angle of Spencer’s jaw, “What would you like to do today?”

Spencer tucks his face into Luke’s neck and breathes him in, “This.” His phone chirps, that obnoxious sound it makes when a work email comes through, and he groans. “Or not…” He extracts himself from the warm comfort of his boyfriend and grabs the offending device.

Luke taps his cell, “Maybe it isn’t a case. I didn’t get anything.”

“When is it not a case…” He opens up his email on the aged technology. “Oh. It’s not a case.” He’s relieved only a moment. Reading the email ignites a new annoyance. “What? No, how… She completely misunderstood the entire premise.”

“What’s up?” Luke sits up straighter, at attention.

“The Curriculum Lead at the Training Division misunderstood half my syllabus. I need to re-explain it or she’s going to reject it.” He drags rough fingers through his tangles and huffs.

“Okay. What do you need to do that?”

His fingers dance erratically before his face, like he’s grabbing and sorting invisible files. “My research material.”

“Isn’t that all stored in your head?” Luke hopes he’s being helpful.

“It is,” Spencer winces, hands smacking his thighs. “I just, it’s better if- I need-”

Luke wraps a steadying hand around Spencer’s wrist and Spencer lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He concentrates on breathing, eyes closed, and he lays his hand over Luke’s to keep it there, keep that needed connection.

“Thank you,” Spencer sighs, regaining control. “Even with my eidetic memory, I find it comforting to have source materials and notes on hand for reference.”

“So you need to go home?” Home as in Spencer’s home, which feels odd to say, since home just feels like  _ together. _

Spencer frowns, his shoulders sagging, “I don’t have to do it today. I have time.”

“But you’ll be thinking about it all day,” Luke guesses with a knowing smile.

With a humorless laugh Spencer agrees, “Yes.”

“Ya hear that, Roxy?” Luke gives her ear a good scratch, “We’re taking a field trip to Spencer’s today!”

“You’re coming with me?” Spencer perks right up at that.

“Well yeah! We were planning on spending the day together; this doesn’t have to change that.”

“Oh good! This should only take me- well, it might take two hours. But then we can get vietnamese sandwiches?”

“We can do whatever you want,” Luke gives that wrist a squeeze and Spencer realizes he has to let him go. His hand flies off of Luke’s, but Luke maintains the hold for a bit longer before slowly sliding away. “Go ahead and get ready. I’ll start getting Roxy’s stuff together, because this lady does not pack light. Huh, Rox?” He dotes on his happy pup. “No you don’t! No you don’t!”

As they head out, Luke has one bag for himself and two for his dog, including a cooler with a wholesome canine dinner prepared inside. “Did you remember her ball?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Spencer confirms, attaching the leash to Roxy’s camouflage collar. 

Weekend tourist traffic passing through to the capital makes the drive a crawl. They’re halfway to Spencer’s neighborhood when there’s a loud pop from outside the car, and the steering wheel starts to tug toward the shoulder. Luke sighs, throwing on the hazard lights and following the vehicle’s advice, “We got a flat.” Luke knows how to change a tire, was able to long before the Army expected it of him, but it’s a time-consuming process that puts him on the side of a busy road. At least the shredded tire is on the side of the car protected from passing vehicles. Small miracles.

Spencer grabs Roxy’s leash and leads her out of the car to let Luke work. “Can I help?”

“Sure,” crouched in front of the blown out front tire, Luke pops the trunk with his FOB. “Can you grab the wheel wedges and tire iron?”

Spencer stares blankly into the trunk, rocking on his heels. He casts a sheepish look Luke’s way.

Luke rises with a grin and heads over to grab the things himself, “We finally find something I’m smarter at?”

“There’s plenty you know that I don’t,” Spencer answers honestly. He steps out of the way, pulling Roxy as far from the road as the poorly maintained foliage will allow. 

The hubcap pops off, lugnuts twist, the chassis raises, and a new tire is set firmly into place. They’re now an hour into a fifteen minute trip.

Roxy again secured in the back, Spencer drops into the passenger seat, “Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“Yeah, what’d they even teach you to get those fancy degrees?” Luke teases. He starts up the car, already dreading merging with this traffic, but then he notices that Spencer is actually distraught, so he prioritizes that, “Hey, thank you for keeping Roxy safe. Really.”

A smile barely tugs at the corners of Spencer’s mouth.

“How about next time we don’t have Rox along for the ride, I pull into a parking lot and properly show you how to change a tire?”

This time, the smile fills his face, “I’d like that, thank you.”

“Good,” Luke nods, proud of himself. He finds an opening between cars and they’re back on the road.

Parking is scarce but Luke finds a spot a block and a half away, and they make it to the dusty library of a home. Spencer gets to scribbling at his desk and Luke starts finding temporary homes for Roxy’s things: the food gets a shelf in the fridge next to Spencer’s sandwich fixings, the rope is tossed enticingly near where she’s sniffing, the water bowl is filled and the empty food bowl is set next to it simply because that is where it belongs. 

He’s dropping his bag of nighttime necessities on Spencer’s bed when he realizes something is wrong. He has his wallet, he has his keys… he doesn’t have his phone. He knows exactly where it is, too. It’s on his kitchen counter, where he set it to pick up Roxy’s bowls. He contemplates for a moment just going a Sunday without the electronic leash, but there are too many people who might need him to let himself even entertain the idea. He can’t believe he forgot his own phone… “Unbelievable.” 

“What was that?” Spencer sounds a bit startled; he was clearly already deep into his assignment.

Luke grumbles, “I forgot my phone.”

“Oh.” Spencer’s eyes dart about as his mind tries to formulate a solution, but Luke already knows what it has to be.

“I’ll be back. Keep an eye on Roxy?” He gets a dutiful nod and then he’s back out on the road. Traffic isn’t as bad in this direction, but he knows what his future holds on the other side of the median. He parks in the garage, takes the stairs two at a time, and finds his phone right where he remembers leaving it. He glares at it, like it’s the phone’s fault it stayed behind, and shoves it into his pocket. He’s back in annoying traffic in no time.

His phone rings. Luke taps the bluetooth speaker clipped to his visor. Nothing happens. The phone keeps ringing. An angry growl rumbles from his chest as he realizes he forgot to turn on the phone’s bluetooth. Bluetooth speakers don’t work without bluetooth connection, dammit.

He throws on his blinker, pulling over to the side of the road. You’re not really supposed to do this, but considering how often his phone rings for him to catch a murderer, he excuses himself from the rule. He misses the call. Stupid phone.

He rips out the phone and immediately turns on the bluetooth before checking who called. Spencer. Just seeing the name puts a lightness in his chest and loosens the tension in his shoulders. He calls him back, waiting for the speaker to kick on so he can get back to the drive. It’s not turning on. He taps the button, again a bit forcefully, but the speaker has decided to take the day off. Stupid speaker.

“Hey, Luke, did I catch you in time?” Spencer sounds nervous.

“In time for what?”

“Where are you?”

Luke looks around and can’t help but laugh at how the stars are aligning today, “I’m pulled over where we changed the tire.”

“Oh no!” Spencer exclaims. “Did you get another flat?”

“No,” Luke can at least be thankful for that, “it was my bluetoo- you know what? It doesn’t matter. What do you need?”

“So you were heading back?” The nerves are back.

“Yes…”

“Luke, I’m so sorry to do this to you. I brought reading material to your place and one of the books is one I’m using for this project. I won’t make you go back. I can go get it. Roxy will be fine here for a few minutes.”

“You don’t have a key.”

“Right. I don’t have a key.”

“It’s fine, I’m halfway there already. I’ll just turn around.”

“Luke, I’m really sorry.” He sounds so guilty and Luke realizes he’s allowed an edge to enter his voice. He takes a deep breath before responding.

“Spencer, I’m not mad at you. To be honest, I’m mad at my phone. And technology in general.”

Spencer can certainly understand that. “Garcia once forced one of those new Apple phones on me, and I broke it in a day just to get my old phone back.”

A laugh erupts from Luke surprisingly, “How did you manage that?”

“Well, first I sat on it, but I’m not that heavy and it was more durable than I’d assumed. So then I dropped it down the stairwell.”

He’s laughing harder now, a real smile on his face, “How did you explain that to Garcia?”

“She seemed to accept it as an inevitability. She hadn’t even deprogrammed my old phone yet.”

Luke lets the joy from that little story fully repaint his perception of the day. “Okay,” he sighs, relieved, “what’s the book called?”

“Suffering Of The Mind. It’s a green hardcopy with white lettering. And I’m really sorry.” He isn’t nervous this time, just genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Luke assures sincerely. “I’ll be there soon.”

A polite driver lets him merge back into traffic and he twists a U-turn at the first light. He’s back home, taking those stairs double time again. He finds the book on the coffee table. He’s about to leave when he shakes his head, mumbling, “I’m not doing this again,” to himself.

He pulls out his phone and gives Spencer another call.

Spencer skips formalities and goes straight to assistance, “I think it’s either on the nightstand or the coffee table.”

“I found it. I just want to make sure there isn’t anything else you might need here before I leave.” He goes room by room. “Did you need your toothbrush?”

“No, I have one here.”

“Pyjamas?”

“I… I am where I keep all of my clothes,” Spencer answers with confusion, and yeah, he makes a solid point.

“Okay.” Luke is  _ almost _ confident. “Heading out.”

Traffic has let up enough that Luke barely contemplates whipping out a siren (which he doesn’t have) to race around the other cars (which is highly unethical). He has to park a bit further from Spencer’s building this time, but that car is staying where it is for at least the rest of the day. 

As soon as Spencer opens his door, Luke presses the book into those elegant hands.

“Thank you so much!” Spencer gives him a grateful kiss before shutting them in. He sets that forgotten hardback on his desk and turns back, “Roxy missed you. I couldn’t even convince her to play fetch.” He bends down to pick up a pristine rubber ball, waving it enticingly before a completely uninterested dog.

Luke frowns, “Why do you have the pink ball?”

“Because it’s a ball?” Spencer clearly doesn’t understand the question.

“That’s the pink ball. She hates the pink ball.”

“Then… why do you have it?”

“Well, I didn’t know she’d hate it until I brought it home, and by that point, I don’t know, there’s no Doggy Goodwill so I’m just stuck with it. But, yeah, she hates it.”

Spencer turns to the dog, who is looking bored laid out beside the couch, “Roxy, this is a perfectly good ball.”

“I’m telling you, she hates pink.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous, dogs can’t see pink.” Spencer waves the ball near Roxy’s face again, and she shows no sign of intrigue.

Luke shrugs, “I don’t know what to tell you. She has three other balls just like that one, but that’s the only one that’s pink, and it’s the only one she doesn’t like.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. He’s perplexed by this mystery and his mind whirs to solve it. “Perhaps it’s the aroma of the dye…” He brings the ball to his face, under his nose, and gives it a long sniff. Trying to recall the aroma of the other balls, the orange, blue, and green ones, he sniffs again, then again.

“Spencer?” Luke chuckles, “you’re freaking Roxy out.”

Spencer looks up from his science to see both his boyfriend and his dog watching him with their heads identically cocked to the side. He blushes brightly, lowering the ball from his face. “Well, I’m sorry, Roxy. I brought the wrong ball.” Roxy lets out a long-suffering sigh in agreement. Spencer turns to Luke, “I suppose this means you’ll have to go back again to get the correct one?”

Luke’s face falls and he huffs, sending a glare in the direction of Spencer’s desk and all its academic paperwork, “How did she not understand your syllabus? You’re Doctor Spencer Reid; they should just let you teach what you want and if she doesn’t understand it, she can take the class!”

Spencer’s face reddens at the praise, and he balances it with self-deprecating humor, “I’ve never before been accused of  _ under-explaining _ something.”

“You explain things perfectly, because you’re an actual genius.”

“Some genius,” Spencer frowns. “I made you drive all the way home because I forgot a book.”

“I had to drive all the way home because this stupid thing controls my life!” Luke waves his cell phone in the air, momentarily contemplating sending it soaring. “And it wouldn’t have been so bad if everyone and their mother hadn’t decided to be on the road this morning, but they did. Slow traffic keep right. How hard is that?”

Spencer nods adamantly, defending his boyfriend’s point, “Research  _ has _ shown that driving slower than the speed of traffic, especially in the left lane, causes more accidents than speeding.”

Luke shakes with irate righteousness, “See? Right there! Brake pedals ruin lives!” A tiny laugh escapes Spencer’s mouth, and he bites down on his lip, not wanting to offend. A smile slowly spreads over Luke’s face and he snorts, “I’m overreacting.” Spencer is clearly trying to stifle his laughter, and that just gets Luke laughing, and Spencer finally lets it out. They allow themselves a moment to just snicker at their ridiculous squabbling. 

Luke throws his arms out hopelessly, a note of humor still in his voice, “Why do we have to live so far apart?”

“Because I preferred an urban setting while you prioritized proximity to work?”

“Okay,” Luke goes with that, “but now it’s just inconvenient.”

Spencer nods sympathetically.

“I wish we could just push our places together. Your books with my… access to Roxy’s toys.”

Spencer squints slightly at Luke, curious about where he’s heading but not quite willing to jump to conclusions.

“None of this back and forth,” Luke mimes today’s commute with his hands. “Just all of our stuff under one roof.”

“Luke? Are we actually talking about this?”

Luke takes a breath and looks Spencer in the eye, “Spencer, would you like to live together?”

“Yes!” Spencer answers quickly, excitedly. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Yes, I’d love that!” 

Luke looks at the joy radiating off his boyfriend and he needs to feel it, physically feel it, in his own arms. He’s too far away, he’s been too far away all day, the world getting between them, and when Spencer is finally in his arms he knows it doesn’t matter where they live, Luke’s home is wherever Spencer is. He presses his face into the shoulder of his favorite person, gaining happiness through osmosis, and it pushes away the pricks and pokes of the past few hours. He sighs, “Great. This is great.” Spencer’s arms are a comfort, hands sliding warmth across his back, and Luke imagines the home they would form together. “I guess there are details to figure out.”

“I don’t know. I liked your idea about pushing our apartments together.”

Luke laughs, his arms squeezing tighter, “Yeah? Did ya?” He shakes his head, thinking seriously about this. “I don’t suppose we could fit all your books into my place.”

Spencer just laughs at the idea. His place is slightly bigger, though it doesn’t look it because every extra square inch is literary shelving. The books might fit at Luke’s, but there would be room for nothing else. “I don’t need all these books.”

Luke squints at him disbelievingly until Spencer acquiesces. “Yeah, you do.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But I don’t need most of my stuff.” Luke realizes. “I’m not attached to my furniture, and my couch is too small, anyway. I can just get rid of it and we can live here.”

Spencer caresses Luke’s face affectionately, grateful he’d be willing to give up so much to make living together work, but he shakes his head, “Roxy doesn’t like it here.”

“Well, that’s just because you brought the wrong ball…”

“No.” He smiles, acknowledging the joke but pressing on, “Roxy needs a yard.”

“A yard?” Luke takes a step back to give himself room to breathe this in, maintaining contact with Spencer through hands cupped around those slender shoulders. “You’re thinking a house?”

“A rental. Nothing extravagant, just a second bedroom.”

“I thought we’d share a bedroom,” Luke quips with a cocky grin, and Spencer does laugh a bit at this joke.

“For the extra space. And maybe a bigger kitchen.”

“Yeah,” Luke nods slowly, “let’s look for a house.”

“November is a slow month for real estate,” Spencer frowns, his eyes going distant as his thoughts take over. “You’d have to sacrifice your short commute as I doubt we’d be able to afford the rent on a house in either of our neighborhoods, and it will still be expensive.” His fingers start to tap against his leg.

Luke slides his hands down Spencer’s arms to wrap around those fidgety appendages, “We could plant a garden.”

This derails the Doubt Train and Spencer is smiling again. “Do you think we could grow kumquats?”

Luke chuckles, “I have no idea, but we can plant a tree and see what happens.”

“And maybe it can have a bay window, where we could sit and watch the rain?” Spencer fantasizes, suddenly letting himself dream.

“And a two car garage,” Luke adds as he remembers hunting down street parking just minutes ago.

“And a soaking tub!” Spencer’s eyes widen with hope.

“We’ll make a list!”

Spencer nods, “Finding a place will probably take a while.”

“But then we’ll live in a house together.”

Spencer is bouncing again, and then he dashes off to his desk and Luke thinks he’s lost him to his syllabus but Spencer returns with a yellow notepad and a pen, taking a seat on the couch and inviting Luke over with a pat on the cushion. He’s already writing, making a list: 2 car garage, backyard, bay window, 2 bedrooms, soaking tub, near coffee shop.

“Near a coffee shop?” Luke reads aloud.

“It isn’t a deal-breaker, but Lexi’s Brew being three doors down was a deciding factor when I chose to live here.”

“It’d be nice to have a park nearby.”

Spencer jots that down. “Oh, and nearby groceries. There is a lot of research on the detriment of food deserts.”

Luke rereads the list, “We can do this. We can find a place that meets at least most of this.” He picks up his phone, that traitorous device that’s about to get a chance to redeem itself, “I can start looking up listings if you want to get back to your syllabus.”

Spencer looks at his desk, then down to the list in his lap, and finally into Luke’s eyes, “The syllabus can wait. Let’s look at houses.”

“All right,” Luke searches for an app to download for this purpose. “Let’s find our home.”

Roxy leaps onto the empty cushion, resting her head heavily on Luke’s leg, and Luke’s hand automatically begins to stroke her fur. “Oh,” Spencer remembers the pink ball that started this conversation, “did you need to go home to get a better ball?”

Luke looks down at his dog, analyzing, “Eh, she’s fine. She has her rope, and I’m sure she’ll find a nice slipper to chew on.”

Spencer nods absently at that, then his brain processes that last bit and his eyebrows shoot up, “Wait, what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who's been here from the beginning, all the readers who've joined along the way, and whoever just discovered this today, thank you for reading!


	26. Apple Pie

“I hope this goes well,” Spencer says to the passenger window as he watches suburban Virginia whisk by. 

Luke feels his fingers tighten around the steering wheel and he consciously relaxes them, “Your mom is gonna be happy to see you.” Spencer just frowns at that, and Luke can imagine how, when your mother often doesn’t remember who you are, those words might not be a comfort, so he tries again, “No matter how she acts, or what she says, a part of her will know you’re there and be happy to see you.

Spencer turns to send Luke a weak smile, “Thank you. And thank you for coming with me.”

“I’m just happy to spend Thanksgiving with you.” It’s actually the day before Thanksgiving, but with two families to visit spread over the Eastern seaboard, the holiday gets extended. 

Spencer offers another smile, not much stronger than the last, but it lasts a bit longer, and then he’s back to staring out that window, sinking beneath the waves of his surging mind. The drive to the Brookfield Assisted Living Facility is not long, but the tension in the car makes it seem that way. Spencer nervously taps away at his thighs, his thoughts written darkly in the furrow of his brow. On longer stretches of straight road, Luke reaches over to join their hands, to soothe with his touch, and Spencer does squeeze back but his worries are too great to relieve over a center console.

Luke parks near the entrance, and he’s out of his seatbelt with the door open before he realizes Spencer hasn’t moved. He settles back into his seat and watches Spencer for guidance. 

“I’m sorry if she…” Spencer winces, his nose twitching as he struggles to find the words.

Luke grasps Spencer’s shoulder firmly, getting his boyfriend to meet his eyes, “I’ve got a pretty thick skin. I know she might say something, but I’m not going to hold it against her. Or you.”

Spencer lifts a hand to lay it over Luke’s and lets out a long, laden breath. He nods, letting Luke’s words and touch ground him, “Okay. Okay, It’s gonna be… It’s gonna be okay. I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Let’s go see your mom.”

They go inside, Spencer walking just a tad slower than usual, and they’re greeted near the entrance by Dr. Kincaid, “Dr. Reid, it’s nice to see you.” She has a clipboard tucked against her chest and a welcoming smile on her face.

Spencer does a quick introduction, “Dr. Kincaid, this is my boyfriend Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Dr. Adeline Kincaid.”

She extends her hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Alvez.”

“Call me Luke,” he shakes her hand.

“Call me Addy.”

“How is she?” Spencer cuts to the chase.

“She was confused this morning,” Addy explains gently, “but she’s been much calmer since breakfast. She’s in the dayroom now.”

“Thank you,” Spencer nods curtly and hurries forward, what speed he lacked entering the building he makes up for now. Luke follows at a sedate pace, allowing Spencer a chance to see his mother privately before joining. From a distance, Luke watches Diana Reid’s face as her son approaches, sees her frown a moment and he holds his breath, and then she smiles, says her son’s name as she rises to her impressive height and wraps her child in her motherly love. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom!” he kisses her hair and presses his face into her robe-clad shoulder.

“Is it already? How time flies! Let me look at you.” She holds him at arm’s length, taking in his face, familiar yet older.

Spencer reaches his arm back, turning to find Luke right there and he clasps his hand, “Mom, this is Luke. You read us a story not too long ago, do you remember?” Diana looks at this handsome young man and there’s an itch of recognition. She sifts through hazy memories and has a vague recollection of reading to children, or perhaps not children. Spencer helps, “He works with me, Mom. At the FBI.”

Diana nods even though she’s yet to place him, and then her eyes zero in on those joined hands, her son joined with another, and something bigger clicks. Her heart fills, her eyes moisten, and she captures her son’s gaze, “Are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?”

Spencer, blinking back tears, answers, “Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.”

“Oh, Spencer!” She collides again with her son, so happy, so proud. She gives him one great squeeze and steps back, letting go, seeing the couple together. “Luke,” she addresses this man and even though she still can’t remember him she now knows exactly who he is, “from Greek, meaning light bringing. Appropriate.” She looks again at her son, so grown now, “Spencer, could you please get us some water?”

Spencer looks back at Luke to check that he’s fine to be left alone with his mother, and Luke is the picture of calm, so he slides his hand away and walks to the dining hall.

Diana steps closer to Luke, not touching, just seeing. “My son is a very special young man.” Luke nods once in agreement, not interrupting. “So for him to have picked you, you must be quite remarkable yourself.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reid,” Luke smiles sincerely. “I love him very much.”

Diana lifts her hand to affectionately cup his cheek. “A mother knows.” Spencer returns with three small paper cups gripped in two hands, and stops a few feet away when he sees how his mother is doting. She waves him over, and they each hold a water. Diana raises hers in the air and encourages them to, as well, “This is certainly a cause for celebration. They don’t allow us alcohol for a myriad of reasons, but let us raise our paper cups of tepid water in a toast. To my son, who found his shining knight and who became one himself. May your steeds carry you peacefully along your journey.” Luke and Diana each drink, but Spencer just watches them, taking a snapshot of this perfect moment with his perfect memory. “Drink, Spencer,” his mother commands, “or it’s bad luck.” He throws back the water obediently. “Now,” Diana grabs both men’s arms, “let us feast.”

There are a dozen patients in the dining hall, most of them alone, few who would know the difference. They’re served turkey sandwiches with an iceberg salad and a slice of apple pie. Halfway through her meal, Diana looks at Spencer with a fog in her eyes, “Would you get my husband, please? I’d like to go home.”

Spencer gives his mother a comforting smile and tells her, “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” and underneath the table, he feels Luke squeeze his hand.

“No,” Diana shakes her head violently, shoving her chair away from the table, “I want to leave now.”

“We can just wait here,” Spencer attempts to placate.

Diana rises, looms with a scowl, “Do not presume to tell me what to do as if you hold some authority.”

He adopts a slighting posture with shoulders twisted inwards and head bowed, one he learned decades ago so as not to be confused with the monsters of his mother’s mind, “Mom, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Spencer.”

“Spencer…” Diana feels the name resonate on her tongue and in her heart. Her face pinches in fear and she looks around at the strange scenery, “Spencer, something’s wrong.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” his voice is young, like he’s been transported back with his mother to a time only defined as  _ before, _ “You’re safe here. We’re just eating dinner. You still have your apple pie.”

“I don’t care for it.” Diana isn’t sitting down yet, isn’t ready to trust.

“You love apple pie, Mom.” Spencer can feel their happy time together slipping through his fingers like so much sand. It wasn’t enough. It’s never enough.

A nurse comes up to their table, sunshine bright and honey sweet, “Sometimes Diana is more comfortable in her room. Isn’t that right, Diana? Would you like to spend some time with Spencer and his friend upstairs?”

Diana smooths her hands down her front, regaining composure. “Yes, thank you, Monique. I believe that would be best.”

They abandon their unfinished meals. Monique guides them up to the residences, likely due to some protocol, and Diana allows Spencer to hold her hand as they follow. Diana is tense, eyes darting and fingers tapping against her leg in the way her son inherited, and Spencer is sturdy, a solid presence to anchor her to the here and now. Passing closed doors, they hear the sounds of life here behind them, of one-sided conversations, feet shuffling in circles, a television blaring a soap opera. 

Someone is playing music, Elvis Pressley’s Heartbreak Hotel, a morbid soundtrack for such a lonely place, but Diana starts to sway to the beat. Her head bobs and she hums the tune, a smile blooming. The music fades behind them, but she’s carrying it along and it lifts her.

Monique opens a door, “Here we are, Diana. Have a wonderful time.”

Diana smiles at the nurse on her way inside, and Spencer takes the time to give Monique a sincere thanks. Luke is tapping on his phone, pulling up Pandora. He may not listen to Elvis, but he has a station he knows Diana will like. 

Diana’s private room is similar to a hotel suite, with a sleeping area on one side and seating on the other, with an attached bathroom. There are touches that personalize it: a quilt on the bed that’s clearly an heirloom, photographs on end tables of family and friends, classic literature overfilling the built-in shelves.

Luke sets his phone on a table by the couch, in front of a picture of a toddler Spencer in Diana’s arms, and presses play. The Four Tops start singing Reach Out I’ll Be There as loud as his cell phone will allow.

Diana spins toward the music, lighting up with excitement. Her hands clap together with glee, “Oh! Spencer, we used to dance to this! Do you remember?”

“I do,” he laughs, overjoyed to be sharing a memory with his mother. 

She grabs his hands, lifting them high and hopping to the tune, “I used to have you stand on my feet. You were always brilliant, but rhythm was not one of your gifts.”

“It still isn’t,” Spencer confesses without a hint of embarrassment. He’s hopping with his mom, off-beat but so happy.

Luke watches them, mother and son, bonding over a fifty year old song and thirty year old memories. Spencer needed this, and it’s likely Diana did as well, and Luke feels privileged just to witness it. Then Diana extends a hand to him, “Come on, sweetheart! Dance with us!” She reminds him of the Diana who read them a story and was so happy he and Spencer were friends, and Luke doesn’t hesitate. He joins hands with Diana and Spencer, twisting and shaking together in a childlike dance as the music shuffles through The Temptations, The Supremes, and Marvin Gaye. 

Diana finally collapses into the couch with a sigh that tells how much the exertion filled her soul. She looks up to them and their still joined hands and smiles, “I’m so glad you boys could come.”

There’s a quick knock at the door before it opens and Monique steps through, “I’m sorry to interrupt. Diana, it’s time for your pills.”

Diana nods, quite familiar by now with this routine, “Can I just see them out first?”

“Of course.”

Diana leads them by their shoulders to the door of her room, pulling her son in for a hug and just holding him while she can still remember how it feels, “Know that I always love you, Spencer. Always.”

“I know, Mom. I love you, too,” his voice is tight and he presses his face into her shoulder.

When they pull apart, Diana holds her arm wide, “Sir Luke of the FBI, Bringer of Light, wouldst thou bestow upon this old lady the favor of an embrace?”

With a smile, Luke immediately envelops her, “Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Reid!”

Walking down the hall, Luke’s hand finds Spencer’s for a gentle squeeze. This was a wonderful visit and deserves recognition. They make their way out of Brookfield and into the parking lot, where Spencer stops, making Luke stop, and Spencer’s eyes are shining and he’s giving Luke that look, like Luke has the answers to every question Spencer has ever asked. “Thank you.”

“That was nice,” Luke nods.

Spencer cups his face, his gaze burning in intensity, “Luke, you… you make everything better.”

There’s such sincerity in those words and Luke’s lungs suddenly feel empty. He inhales, shaking loose a powerful swell of emotion within him. All he did was play some music but Spencer is looking at him like he hung the moon amidst the stars, and for this amazing man Luke would. He can’t speak, can barely breathe, so he pulls Spencer in for a kiss that recites poetry and sings praise. When words finally return they spill from his lips, “I love you. I’d do anything to make things better for you. Your happiness is mine.”

Spencer takes in a shaky breath, lets it out with a laugh, “Then you must be really happy right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, dear readers! Your clicks bring me joy :-)


	27. Balloon With Aspirations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Memorial Day! Let’s celebrate... Thanksgiving ;-)

They leave with plenty of time to get to the airport, but it’s one of the busiest travel days of the year so it still feels like they’re running behind. It’s a game of Hurry Up And Wait, rushing to the line at the ticket machine, to the line at security, to the gate that hasn’t even started boarding yet. 

“I miss the jet,” Spencer sits in one of those almost-chairs in the waiting area, carry-on tucked between his feet.

Luke surveys the information board above the counter, contrasting the clock with their departure time and noting how many flights are delayed. He drops down next to Spencer, plopping his bag in his lap. “We should start boarding soon.”

“We’re boarding group 3,” Spencer reads off his ticket.

Luke sighs, “Now I miss the jet.”

It isn’t a long flight, but it is a crowded one, reminiscent of a sardine can where they are in coach. Spencer presses himself into the window to allow Luke as much breathing room as one can have in a middle seat. They land at LaGuardia, move like herded cattle out of the plane, and hail a cab to take them over the Whitestone Bridge to Luke’s old neighborhood. 

Not much has changed. The corner store has a new name, and there are more cars on the street than when he was a child, but the houses and people look the same. They’re dropped off in front of his home, or at least the house that used to be his home, and Luke leads the way up the stoop. He barely gets his knuckles against the door before it swings open.

“I thought that was you,” Rita gives her son a quick once over before wrapping him in a hug. “Happy Thanksgiving! Come in, come in. Spencer, come here,” she squeezes her welcome tenderly into Spencer’s frame. “Are you boys hungry? Let me get your bags.”

“We’ve got them, Ma,” Luke kisses the top of his mother’s head and closes them inside. “What’s cooking? It smells amazing.”

“Oh, just a little something. The big feast is tomorrow but I thought you might be hungry after your flight.”

Joe pops out of one of the rooms down the hallway with a serene smile, “Welcome home, Son.” He hugs Luke and lands two gentle pats to his back, then takes Spencer’s hand and cups his shoulder, “Happy Thanksgiving, Spencer.” Spencer wonders if the man is slowly working up to hugging him, one gesture at a time.

“Happy Thanksgiving. Thank you both so much for having me.”

Rita gives Spencer’s arm an affectionate squeeze before turning to her son, “Luke, how about you show Spencer where to put his things and wash up for dinner.”

They ascend a stairway lined with school photos of Luke and his cousins, family portraits, and framed children’s artwork. Luke’s room is the second from the stairs. It contains the typical accents of an adult’s childhood bedroom: a twin bed with linens washed just after the previous visit, a dresser with clothing that won’t fit, dated posters, and a closet still filled with the items that once mattered but don’t belong in his adult life. Beyond the time capsule aspects, there is a deflated air mattress next to its pump, folded sheets and blankets beside it. Spencer takes it all in, then points to the bed, “Ooh, it’s the famed Spiderman bedding. In person.”

“Yes,” Luke tosses his bag onto that themed comforter, “in case you didn’t already think I was cool, I slept in those bad boys all through high school.”

“I would have been very into that,” Spencer laughs, then quickly amends, “in college. When I was age-appropriate.” He sets his go-bag neatly next to the dresser and follows Luke to the bathroom to clean the trip from their hands. 

The ‘little something’ Rita cooked up for them is her mother’s renowned soup, or at least as close of an approximation as Rita can manage without ever having learned the recipe. “I added more lime this time,” she tells Luke, reporting on her quest to perfect her mother’s signature dish, “and I changed the ratio of chicken and vegetable stock. You let me know what you think.”

“It’s always delicious, Ma.”

“Thank you,” she pats his cheek, “but I want it to be right.” This is her first attempt since her mother’s passing, and while Maria Gomez always told her her tries were ‘just as good’ as the original, Rita strives for perfection. The fact that Luke didn’t recognize the aroma upon entering the house isn’t a great sign, but she’ll just keep on working at it.

They gather at the kitchen table to eat and catch up on what’s happened since Luke’s last call home. Spencer is surprised to learn how much Rita and Joe know about him, from his academic accolades to snippets of their forming life together. 

“Spencer,” Rita smiles warmly at him, “Luke mentioned you visited your mother this morning. How is she doing?”

Spencer swallows, eyes widening just a moment before he answers, “She’s doing well. Luke actually gave me the idea to try music therapy to help with her long term recall and mood. I’ll be emailing her doctor about that when we return from the holiday.”

“That’s wonderful! She’s lucky to have such a good son looking out for her wellbeing.”

“Thank you,” Spencer is clearly affected by the praise, smiling shyly as his back straightens.

“How is the house hunting?” Joe asks.

“Slow going,” Luke shrugs. “We weren’t expecting to find much yet, but we’re keeping an eye out. Ma, this soup is delicious. I think you’re pretty much there.” He says this every time, and she gives him her same grateful smile and a pat on the wrist.

Joe takes his wife’s hand, “If it weren’t for your mind or your beauty, I’d have married you for your cooking, Rita.” He says this often, in his understated voice, proving the point with another mouthful. “You remember, Luke, that we didn’t find this house until three days after we gave up looking. The right place will come along.”

It’s been a long day for the weary travelers, and they retire early to Luke’s old room. Rita kisses their cheeks goodnight while Joe asks from the doorway, “You need help with that mattress? I meant to blow it up before you got here.”

Luke crouches down in front of the air bed, unfolding it, “It’s fine, we’ve got it.” 

“Just let us know,” Joe bows his head in a goodbye.

“See you boys in the morning,” Rita shuts the door on her way out.

Luke works on pumping up the mattress, and Spencer would help, but he’s too busy snooping. He’s gathered from the bookcase four yearbooks that span the nineties and set them on the bed for later reading, and is now engrossed in a small shrine atop the dresser to baseball. Pictured are some of New York’s greatest players: Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, and Joe DiMaggio. Off to the left is a photo of a fourth grade Luke in a baseball uniform, his smile huge. “You played baseball?”

Luke looks up from his task, still pressing on that pump as he responds, “I tried. I was terrible. It didn’t dampen my love for the sport, clearly. I used to dream about pitching for the Yankees someday, like way past knowing how poor my throwing arm is.”

Spencer frowns, dismayed to have brought up a disappointment. “You were a cute kid,” he says almost like a question, testing if this will be a happier topic.

“Oh, I know,” Luke grins smugly. “So were you. I saw some of the photos your mom had on display. You had those big ol’ glasses and about half your teeth.”

Spencer winces, “Yeah, I was pretty awkward until… I still am…”

“You were adorable then and you’re gorgeous now. Could you help me with this pump?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure, sorry!” They take turns inflating the queen size mattress, watching it fill the floor space between the bed frame and wall. Then they pull on the fitted sheet and cover it with blankets and pillows. 

Luke gives the finished product a poke, “These things freak me out. It’s like sleeping on a balloon just waiting to pop.”

“Thanks,” Spencer frowns down at his future bed, “I’ll be thinking about that.”

“What do you have there?” Luke looks closer at what Spencer stored on his comforter, “Oh, Yearbooks!”

“Yes, I found grades six, eight, ten, and twelve.”

“Yeah, since Analise and I were the same grade our parents switched off buying us Yearbooks. Except Senior year, where we both got our own. We’d just have people sign it to both of us.”

Spencer opens the sophomore book and reads the first note, “Analise and Luke, you guys make a cute...couple…” he stops reading to give Luke a peculiar look.

Luke laughs, “She got a lot of people to sign it who didn’t actually know us. Her idea of humor.”

Spencer keeps flipping through, reaching the Sports section to find Luke again in a baseball uniform, “You still played.”

“I warmed the bench. It was never gonna happen, but I nursed that pitching dream right up until I joined the Army.”

“Why did you join the Army?”

“My dad served,” Luke answers easily. “Military service actually goes back quite a few Alvez generations.”

“So it was expected?”

“No, no, it was my choice. Our parents have a phrase they use to describe us, and it’s pretty accurate. I follow my dad, Analise follows her heart, and Bethany follows the rules. I wanted to be like my dad since I could remember. He’d come home on leave and I would be glued to his side, I’d try to emulate whatever he was doing. There’s video somewhere of me shaving with a toy car next to my dad, who’s  _ actually _ shaving.”

Spencer smiles to himself, allowing his imagination to formulate the image. “Your family seems really happy.”

“We are,” Luke realizes with pride. “We haven’t always had it easy. Analise and Bethany lost their dad when we were eight, Bethany was five, and that was hard. But that’s also when our families came together, and the three remaining parents, plus my grandma, raised the three of us together. My Aunt Yvonna’s house is just across the street, so it was pretty easy to go back and forth. Tragedy brought us together. It’s like what makes the BAU your family.”

“Thank you,” Spencer takes his hand, “for letting me be a part of yours.”

Luke releases a happy sigh and leans in for a kiss. Spencer holds his face, deepening the kiss, mumbling his love against Luke’s lips and Luke laughs. “I love you, too.”

Spencer grabs the senior yearbook and dives into the early nineties fashion and haircuts, the black and white pages sprinkled with classic Clipart. He finds images of students wearing their best and baggiest partywear in a multipurpose room decorated with construction paper and puff paint. There, in the center of the third page, is Luke next to a taller boy in a leather jacket, holding hands.

“Oh, man…” memories return to Luke in a wave. “That was Marco.”

“Marco?” Spencer presses for more.

“Yeah, we dated most of senior year. In fact, he was my prom date.” He chuckles with a wince, “Mom did _ not  _ approve.”

“Why not?”

“For things I was too young to understand at the time. He just…” Luke ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, “He reminded me of Uncle Jesse. From Full House? And that was all that mattered…”

Spencer has to reach deep into his memory banks, but he recalls the show, and more importantly the character. He feels a sudden need to defend his boyfriend’s choices, made so long ago, “Yes, I can see that. The hair and jacket.”

“Yeah…” Luke turns the page, shooing away Marco. “Uncle Jesse was my first celebrity crush. Actually, according to my mom, my first crush was Big Bird.”

Again, the memories are buried, but Spencer finds them, “The muppet?”

“Yup,” Luke lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “I guess I have a thing for tall guys.”

Spencer smiles when he realizes he’s included in that reference, but his mind is still on Marco, on what Marco might have done to get on the wrong side of Rita Alvez. Luke keeps turning pages and arrives at the Senior portraits. Luke’s is near the beginning, his smile easy and familiar, his hair slicked back with the times. Spencer traces the face he knows so well, then leans over to kiss Luke’s cheek.

A few more pages brings them to Marco Feretti, his message scrawled over the neighboring faces: “Luke, you look good on my arm. I love you almost as much as you love me! Haha, Marco.”

“Oof…” Spencer grimaces as he reads the Sharpied words. 

Luke slowly closes the book, sliding it beneath the bed frame before turning to Spencer with an exaggerated smile, “So who was your celebrity crush?” 

Spencer accepts this change of subject gracefully. “Well, I had a fascination with every scientist I read about, from Pythagoras to Katherine Johnson… Oh, I kissed Lila Archer.”

Luke is taken aback, “The actress?”

“Yes. I was assigned as her protective detail during a Type-4 Assassin case.”

“Oh, do tell me more, you suave James Bond!” Luke is looking at him like he’s suddenly realizing this man can still shock him.

Spencer blushes, “Technically she kissed me, after she pulled me into her pool. I wish it were cooler than it sounds. My gun got wet and we smelled like chlorine.”

Luke laughs, “Aw, man, when was this?”

“Back when she was on Emotional Cages. It was the last season.”

Luke squints in thought, “That was the bikini show, right?”

“It was about beach volleyball,” Spencer says like that raises the brow.

“Hey, wait!” Luke’s eyes go wide, excited, “Wasn’t she on that show The Following?” Spencer nods and Luke pats him on the back, “You’re my third degree of Kevin Bacon!”

Spencer feels oddly proud of this, “I am.”

Luke tucks the rest of the yearbooks under his bed and yawns, “I’m beat.” They get ready for bed, adept at sharing a small bathroom, and Luke changes into gym clothes while Spencer gets snuggly in his full flannel nightwear. Luke drops into bed under those Spiderman sheets and eyes the bag of air on the floor beside him, “Are you gonna be okay on that thing?”

Spencer sticks his tongue between his teeth, watching the air mattress for any sudden moves. “We...shall see.” He gingerly lowers himself onto this balloon with aspirations, taking the shape of a starfish to spread his weight as evenly as possible.

“Comfy?” Luke laughs from above him.

“I will be, if I just don’t...move.”

Luke scoots back from the edge of his structurally sound bed and gives the empty space before him a pat, “Or you could sleep here.”

Spencer does an experimental wiggle and the mattress groans a warning. “Yep,” he nods. The airbed is only six inches lower than Luke’s, so Spencer rolls across this bed of doom and up onto the more solid surface, right into Luke’s chest.

“Smoothe,” Luke commends, impressed.

“It didn’t feel smoothe!” Spencer laughs, cuddling in close. “This bed is very small.”

Luke’s strong arms come around him, “I won’t let you fall.”

They burrow into unconsciousness. In his sleep, Spencer turns. He feels the edge of the mattress too late, tumbling into open air with a meep, and then Luke catches him, only half awake. Luke holds him there, three inches above that airbed, their faces both groggy and shocked, and they laugh themselves fully awake. Spencer curls back into Luke, clutching for safety, and Luke kisses his forehead for comfort.

“Is it time to abort mission?” Luke scoots back as much as he can to give Spencer that extra half an inch in case he chooses to stay.

Spencer shakes his head, plastering himself against his boyfriend’s body, “You saved me, just like you promised. Also, if I fall I’m just landing on that air mattress which is Plan B anyway. And I like being this close.”

“I like you this close,” Luke lifts Spencer’s chin to give him a proper kiss. They’re warm and comfortable in this loving home and Spencer hums happily in the back of his throat. They kiss again, Spencer carding his fingers through Luke’s hair because he knows how much Luke loves that and Luke keeping him close because it’s what they both need.

They awaken to bright sunshine and the muffled voice of Stevie Wonder. Luke gives Spencer a quick good morning kiss then rises from the bed, extending his hand to help Spencer do the same. He doesn’t change into day clothes, just goes right on downstairs with his hair sticking up at odd angles and a pillow crease on his cheek, and Spencer follows him down. 

At the base of the stairs, they catch sight of Joe and Rita slow dancing to Isn’t She Lovely in the living room. They’re both wearing aprons, their flour smudges pressed together as they hold each other lovingly and move with the rhythm. Luke stops, watches his parents a moment, then turns to Spencer and whispers, “Dance with me?”

Spencer isn’t shy about this anymore, just takes Luke’s hand and follows him into the living room where their arms surround each other and the music takes over. The song changes to Tammi Terrell, and Rita suddenly notices she and her husband aren’t alone, “Oh, you boys are up! Good morning!”

“Morning!” Luke stays with the beat. 

Spencer turns his head against Luke’s cheek to send the Alvezes a smile, “Good morning. Happy Thanksgiving.” 

Joe gives a small nod of acknowledgement, his voice soft, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Rita lets the song play through before commanding, “Okay Google, decrease volume to twenty percent,” to let the music settle into the background.

“You got one of those robots?” Luke exclaims with surprise.

Rita teases with a smirk, “Get with the times, Son.”

Luke levels a serious expression, “You know those things listen to everything you say, right?”

Rita ponders that a moment and then shrugs, “I like the attention. Now, who wants to be my kitchen helper?”

Spencer is quick to follow her, with Luke and Joe close behind. Rita is an excellent head chef, creating culinary masterpieces while guiding everyone smoothly through their chopping and mixing. The house fills with the warm aroma of holidays at home. 

Joe receives a text and pulls his phone out to read it aloud, “It’s from Bethany. They’ve hit some traffic but they should be here in an hour.”

“Wonderful!” Rita cheers. “Now you boys go up and get ready. You’ll find the bathroom becomes a popular place once the whole family arrives.” That last bit is for Spencer’s benefit, and they both dash upstairs to shower and dress while they still can. They return cozy in their autumn sweaters.

Joe taps his watch when his son steps into the kitchen, “Turkey time?”

“Turkey time!” Luke agrees excitedly and grabs the wrapped and seasoned bird from the fridge.

Spencer looks in confusion to the oven, certain he already saw a turkey roasting within, and Rita explains, “We do turkey two ways: the classic,” she points with pride to hers, “and whatever way Luke and his father can come up with outside. Sometimes it’s smoking, sometimes it’s barbecuing, one year they dug a pit…”

“This year it’s deep frying,” Luke announces with a huge grin.

“Deep frying?” Spencer’s face pinches in concern, “Deep frying injures an average of sixty Americans every year, killing five.”

Rita rests a hand on his forearm, “They’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

Spencer isn’t deterred, “It also destroys approximately nine hundred homes, creating over fifteen million dollars in property damage.”

With a wooden spoon pointed between her adventurous family members, Rita commands, “You make sure to keep away from the house.”

Joe and Luke each give an obedient nod and a “Yes, Ma’am,” then Luke leans in to kiss Spencer’s cheek, “I promise to be careful. Do you want to join us?”

Spencer takes a calming breath, accepting that Luke knows what he’s doing, or at least is smart enough to prevent injury and devastation. He brings up a hand to caress Luke’s face, “Go have fun with your dad.” This is something for a father and son to do together, and Spencer is happy to keep helping Rita.

There’s a bounce to Luke’s step as he follows his father out, an idolization that never ceases. Then the door opens and a blast of frigid air hits him and he exclaims, “It’s cold!” and runs back upstairs. He returns in a jacket far too small for him, grabbed off a convenient hanger in a closet of clothes he hasn’t worn since his teens, and goes to dunk a bird in some oil.

Spencer keeps an eye on them through the kitchen window, a smile taking over his face. Luke is in Heaven. He’s excitedly forming a cooking plan with his father, swinging the poultry about as his hands communicate with his words. 

Rita spies Spencer watching and goes to join him, “There have been quite a few holidays where we haven’t had Luke with us, between the Army and his work with the FBI,” she sighs. “We miss him, Joe especially. They’re two peas in a pod. It’s so wonderful you both can be here.”

Spencer nods seriously, completely understanding, “Luke makes everything better. I’ve known him barely more than a year and I already can’t imagine my life without him. He lights up every room he walks in to, he cares so much about everyone, he’s so funny. There’s no one else I’d rather talk to about  _ anything. _ He makes me feel a joy I never thought was possible.” He stops himself there, blushing, “I’m sorry, sometimes I ramble.”

“I raised that boy,” Rita pats his shoulder, her tone touched. “You ramble all the praise on him you want.”

“You did,” his voice tightens with emotion and he blinks away a shine, “such an amazing job.”

Rita stares up at him, her face surprised, appreciative, and so very happy all at once. “Oh, come here!” she pulls him into a hug, rocking him slightly, “Aren’t you so sweet!” The hug is powerful, affirming and accepting and adoring, and Spencer is hanging onto his emotional control by a thread. He is not going to cry in this kitchen with Luke’s whole family about to be here, but he’s experiencing a mother’s touch in a way he never has before. Rita pulls back, patting his cheek, “Luke did good finding you. And you’re so handsome.”

Spencer laughs and it’s watery but the humor helps his emotions not feel so overwhelming and he can calm himself with a single breath, “Thank you.”

“Come help me set the table. It shouldn’t be long before everyone else gets here.”

The extended family arrives with a flurry. Andy, Sarah, and Hannah don’t bother knocking before rushing in with delighted squeals to be done with the drive and in the presence of their beloved grandparents. They surround Rita, tugging on her apron as she dotes on each child. Analise comes in next, her baby wrapped snugly against her chest and a lunch-size bag of veggie chips in her hand. She tosses another chip in her mouth, crunching away.

“What are you eating?” Rita demands.

“We came up in Bethany’s Mom-Mobile,” Analise waves her head in the general direction of her sister’s luxury minivan. “You know that thing has enough snacks to survive the apocalypse.”

“It’s Thanksgiving! I cooked all morning, and you come in here eating chips!” Rita’s irritation is clearly contrived.

“Mama Rita,” Analise points to her sleeping infant, “I’m still snacking for two.”

Bethany leads Carlos and Raul in a train of casserole dishes, hauling in far more sweet potatoes and stuffing than twelve people could hope to eat, and promptly takes over the kitchen. Yvonna is summoned by the arrival of her daughters, and she trots across the street carrying two freshly baked pies just cool enough to touch. 

The feast is delicious, but more importantly, it’s joyous. Bethany serves green bean casserole as she details the charity work she’s spearheading through her church, and Carlos brags that it’s the most successful fundraising effort they’ve had in eight years all thanks to his wife’s brilliance. Around a mouthful of biscuit, Analise regales the group with stories of Lucia discovering her toes and blowing bubbles, and Raul jokes about getting that baby into a pair of coveralls to start working in the family automotive shop as soon as she can hold a wrench. Spencer watches the easy conversation flow around him quietly.

Halfway through the meal, Luke slides his hand into Spencer’s, stroking his palm with his thumb. Grateful for the connection, Spencer squeezes back. He’s feeling emotions he can’t label, and they are as wonderful as they are potent. The ease with which this family interacts, the lack of tension, the caring humor are all so beautiful.

“Okay!” Rita announces from next to Spencer. She hands her phone to him, “It’s time for the family photo!”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees quickly, rising and stepping back enough to capture everyone in the screen.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Rita reaches for him, waving him back to his seat. “You’re going to be in the photo, you’re family. I just don’t know how to set up the timer.”

“Oh,” Spencer responds, surprised enough that he’s frozen in his spot. Family.

Analise laughs, “Sorry, Spencer, but once you’re in there’s no getting out. Isn’t that right, Raul?” she leans over to kiss her husband’s cheek.

Raul tucks a lock of hair behind her ear affectionately, then smiles at Spencer, “We don’t fight it.”

Luke rises to meet his boyfriend, noticing his legs aren’t working, “Spencer doesn’t know how to work your phone any better than you, Ma. His brilliance lies everywhere else.” He takes the phone from Spencer’s still hands and gently pushes him back to his chair. He finds the perfect spot to catch everyone’s face, sets the timer, and runs back to his seat. The phone beeps a countdown, then flashes, immortalizing the moment.

Rita checks the picture and smiles, “There’s our Christmas card!” They never do a Christmas card, but every Thanksgiving picture renews the thought that maybe  _ this _ year they will.

Everyone takes their dishes into the kitchen, a parade of rinsing and setting in the dishwasher. The children rush off to play while the rest of the food is portioned into Tupperware. The heavy meal doesn’t slow this family, if anything, it energizes them, and they are shouting over each other to tease and joke, grabbing the spotlight from each other just as quickly as they throw it back. 

Spencer finds himself on the outskirts of this ruckus, his back hitting a wall. Equally uninvolved in the noisy banter, Joe recognizes a kindred spirit and gives Spencer’s shoulder a gentle tap, waving his fingers to beckon him along down the hallway. Joe opens a door, allows Spencer in, and then shuts it all but a crack. The walls are lined with books that serve to dampen the outside sound, and while it isn’t exactly quiet, it’s far more peaceful. 

Joe lowers himself into a worn armchair and points around the room in offering. He smiles softly, “Nothing brings me more joy than my family. Sometimes, I need to come in here.” He doesn’t explain it further, and he doesn’t have to; if anyone can understand the desire to retreat to a library, it’s Spencer Reid. 

Spencer pulls out a book on little-known heroes of the American history and sits on the small couch to read, to let the pages absorb his mind for a while. 

Luke isn’t surprised to find his dad and boyfriend in the study; it’s the only peaceful spot in the house. Growing up, this was where they’d go when they needed a break from the bustle. He would sit near his dad and read his books on military exploits for hours, Bethany preferred this room to do her homework, and Analise would occasionally lay out on the floor to color for a few minutes before the need to be loud overwhelmed her. “Hey,” he keeps his voice low, “pie is ready, if you guys want some.”

Spencer looks up from his book and beams, “I’m reading about Bernardo de Galvez, governor of Spanish Louisiana during the American Revolution who allowed the colonies to utilize the Mississippi River to move supplies when the British blocked the coastal ports. It was vital to the fight, and he did it all because Spain hated England.” He finds this hilarious.

Luke drops down next to him, needing to kiss that smile. He nods to the book, “That was one of my favorites growing up. I’m glad you found it. And that you found this room. Thanks, Dad.”

Joe gives a dignified nod in response, fluttering his newspaper to the next page.

Luke leans in close to Spencer, voice even quieter to let his dad read, “So, how are you doing?”

“Amazing,” Spencer breathes out, letting how much the day has affected him show on his face for Luke to read. “This is the best holiday I’ve ever spent.”

Luke takes that in, slowly smiling, then presses his forehead to Spencer’s and whispers, “We’ll top it next year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed!


	28. Skipping Prom

It’s been months since they last went out on a proper date, and they promise each other that the next night they are in town, they are getting fancy and eating expensive. The night comes on a Tuesday. Spencer goes home to dress in his best suit, the one he wore on their first date. Luke knocks an hour later, and when Spencer answers he is handed a bouquet of flowers. 

“Kennedia!” Spencer looks at the beautiful blossoms, touched. “They mean intellectual beauty. Luke, thank you!”

“You’re close, but that’s not quite what they mean,” Luke shuts the door.

Spencer frowns in thought, “No, that’s accurate…”

“I believe the term you’re looking for,” Luke leans in close, resting his lips against Spencer’s ear to whisper, “is sexy brains.”

Spencer shivers as warm breath caresses sensitive flesh, then can’t help but laugh. It’s a heady combination. Luke slowly kisses down his neck, lavishing him just above the collar, and Spencer sighs, wrapping his free arm tight around his boyfriend’s waist. They’ve been so busy lately, they haven’t had time for  _ this.  _ “Are we cancelling our reservations?”

“I didn’t make any,” Luke murmurs into his throat, then leans back up to kiss his lips. “But no. I want to show you off.”

Spencer blushes, then takes in how his boyfriend looks. He’s wearing a burgundy sweater, the soft fabric stretched over his muscles, and Spencer reaches a hand out to run along Luke’s bicep. “Did you know this is my favorite top?”

Luke gives a coy smile, “I do now.”

Spencer pulls him back for another kiss and leans into him, feels the strength of him. “I love you, Luke.”

Luke presses his face into Spencer’s hair and wraps him in a tight hug, “I love you, Spencer.”

Spencer could stay in these arms forever. “Why did we want to go out so badly?”

“I still do!” Luke steps back with a bright smile. “The night is young. Put those flowers in water and let me show you a good time.”

Luke drives them to Bella Notte where they order the Tour of Italy, partially because it allows them to sample the chef’s specialties, but mostly because the smattering of plates spread over the table means they can feed each other like the heart-eyed lovebirds they are. 

The husband of the owner stops by their table just to tell them what a  _ bellissimo _ couple they are and leaves a thornless red rose between them. Luke carries it out with them, snapping the stem in half and sliding the flower through the buttonhole on Spencer’s lapel. Spencer touches the petals with a gentle finger then looks at Luke with an expression of soft affection. They hold hands on their walk back to the car. 

It takes three turns for Spencer to realize they aren’t headed to either of their apartments. Curious, he pulls up a map in his mind as Luke keeps driving. They leave the town limits, buildings replaced with trees and stretches of serene countryside, and then they climb through thick forest up to a peak. The road ends just before a cliff, where there’s enough room to park a single car between the pines. The headlights shine out over the ridge, receding into the night, and out beyond is the sparkle of the cities below, the ships on the black waters of the Potomac, and the hazy dots of civilization across the river. The inky sky breaks through with a handful of twinkling stars, the moon full and golden near the horizon. 

“It’s beautiful,” Spencer whispers. “Why are we here?”

“We’re skipping prom.”

Spencer blinks at him, “What?”

“We’re too cool for those kids anyway.”

“Luke?”

Luke takes Spencer’s hand, “My prom wasn’t great, and you didn’t get one, so… Spencer, will you skip prom with me?”

“Okay,” Spencer laughs, “yes.”

Luke looks outright giddy, and he reaches to press play on his CD player. Savage Garden’s Truly Madly Deeply comes on and Spencer’s eyes widen. He hasn’t heard this song in years. Luke throws his door open and runs around to Spencer’s side, “Dance with me!”

Spencer unbuckles, hopping out excitedly and allowing Luke to guide him into the beams of those headlights, looking out over that vista. He’s surrounded by Luke’s touch, and it’s a slow song, so they rhythmically sway. 

It’s November, the temperature has been dropping since dusk, but they stay close, sharing body heat through their clothing.

“This is Joplin Ridge,” Luke informs. Spencer nods because he knows this, and Luke laughs because  _ of course _ Spencer knows this. “I read about it on one of those Best Kept Secret lists a month ago and I’ve been wanting to take you here ever since.”

“You wanted to take me to the Joplin Makeout Point?” Spencer teases, since he knows more than just the geographical location of where they are. This spot has a  _ reputation. _

Luke slides his hand up to caress Spencer’s cheek, “Well, yeah.” He leans in for a kiss as Seal starts singing Kiss From A Rose, and Luke taps the flower still clinging to Spencer’s suit like he planned the moment perfectly.

With a contented sigh, Spencer leans back in, resting his face on Luke’s shoulder. He kisses him there, still wanting to communicate his affection. They dance to Goo Goo Dolls’ Name. Luke spins Spencer and Spencer has to duck under his arm to make it work, and they giggle when their chests meet again. They sway side to side, their hips moving together. The mid-nineties sing out of those old car speakers and by the time the Mariah Carey version of Endless Love comes on, they’re barely moving, just holding each other and gently rocking to the tune. 

“This was so much better than the prom I didn’t go to,” Spencer smiles.

“This was better than the prom I _ did  _ go to,” he runs his fingers through Spencer’s curls. “I love you.”

Spencer melts against him, “I love you, too.”

“You know,” Luke clears his throat, “I picked a career that made relationships impossible, and I was starting to think it might be too late, that the world had paired up without me. And then I fell for the cute guy at work, and it was a long shot, but it was fun to have hope again, ya know? And then he asked me out.” Luke kisses him, so grateful for how this story turned out. “You’ve mentioned fulfilled dreams before. I just wanted to let you know, you fulfilled mine, too.”

Spencer closes his eyes as those words fill him.

“God, I love your smile…”

Spencer grabs Luke’s face with both hands and kisses him soundly. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

The CD ends abruptly, throwing them into the natural sounds of the forest, of rustling branches and crickets and nocturnal birds. It’s been cold, but somehow the soundtrack of night makes it colder. With a final kiss, Luke says, “Let’s get back in that warm car.”

Spencer nods vigorously in agreement and follows, but then cocks his head in confusion when Luke opens the back door. “What?”

Luke waggles his eyebrows and slides in. With a small noise of glee Spencer quickly follows, closing them in, “Are we seriously about to make out in the back seat of your car?”

“I seriously  _ want _ to,” Luke offers.

Spencer gives him a quick hot kiss before sliding out of his suit jacket, laying it over the passenger headrest to protect that flower. Taking that as a cue, Luke reaches up and undoes the top two buttons of Spencer’s shirt. His finger grazes warm skin and Spencer hisses, jolting away, then laughs, “Cold hands.”

“Sorry!” Luke rubs his hands together, blowing on his fingertips.

Spencer continues to unbutton his shirt until it hangs open off his shoulders. It’s more than Luke was expecting in this semi-public area. He runs his warmed hands along the soft skin of Spencer’s sides, earning a blissed moan. Spencer finds the hem of Luke’s sweater so he can slide his hands underneath, mapping defined abdominal muscles. Then he lays his body over Luke’s for an open-mouth kiss. He catches Luke’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently, before soothing with a swipe of his tongue. 

Luke surges up, needing to be deeper. He cradles Spencer’s head as he slides his tongue against his, feeling Spencer shiver above him. They kiss, claiming deep within each other until the need for air has them breathlessly pull apart.

Spencer drags a hand out from Luke’s shirt to wrap it around Luke’s upper arm. He whispers into Luke’s neck, “So sexy,” before sucking the sensitive skin there. 

Luke turns his head to give his boyfriend better access, reveling in the sensation, and then it occurs to him that he might have just discovered a new kink. He flexes his bicep, and Spencer moans, his grip tightening. Luke has always been confident about his looks, but he has never felt as attractive as he does right now, with this man. His voice is breathy when he asks, “You like my arms?”

_ “So much,” _ Spencer enthuses, scooting down to press his face in Luke’s bicep, planting a kiss over the bulge. Then he ducks his face into Luke’s side and Luke can feel through the sweater how hot he’s blushing, and he needs to kiss him. He uses the strength of those arms, gripping Spencer at the waist and lifting him up his body to settle him against his chest. Spencer inhales sharply and stares at him with lust-darkened eyes before crashing their lips together. “That was hot!”

Luke can’t help but feel proud. His arms are so sexy his boyfriend is actually embarrassed by how much they turn him on. This is going to put a swagger in Luke’s step for weeks. Months. He glides his fingers below Spencer’s shirt, along the line of his spine, his other hand threading through Spencer’s honey-colored curls. He might just have a kink, too…

Spencer mouths a trail across Luke’s cheek to that spot behind his jaw, teasing it with his tongue before giving it a gentle nip, “I think we should go home.”

“You done with me already?” Luke teases, his voice pitched a bit higher.

Spencer traces the shell of his ear with his tongue and whispers, “Not at all.”

Luke grips that slender waist again, and in the tight confines of the back seat, he flips them over, Spencer laid out against the upholstery and Luke hovering over him to press sucking kisses down his throat. His hands slide across his stomach and up his chest as he kisses lower. When his lips reach sternum, he pulls back, tapping the spot with his finger, “Save my place.”

Spencer huffs a laugh, his nod a bit dazed. Luke pulls the ends of his shirt together, fastening each button to make his boyfriend presentable for the trip home. When he reaches the top button, Spencer’s fingers squeeze around his in thanks. Luke looks up and sees Spencer watching him with so much love. Luke leans down to press a quick peck to Spencer’s lips, moves back, sitting against the door so he can offer a hand to help Spencer sit up. Spencer accepts, smiling fondly, and they get out of the warm car, dash through the freezing air into the front seats, and close out the night. Spencer pulls his suit jacket over the front of him as a makeshift blanket, then reaches an arm out of the cocoon to stroke his fingers down Luke’s arm.

Luke breaks a few speed laws getting them home. 

They rush up the stairs, but Spencer gets impatient between floors and grabs Luke for a passionate kiss on the landing. Making it up a few more steps, Spencer grasps Luke’s arm and this time it’s Luke who loses control, gripping Spencer’s hair to expose his neck, and Luke can feel his moan rumble against his lips. They make it to Luke’s room before they can scandalize a neighbor. 

Roxie greets them with a wag and a pointed whine. Spencer is reaching for a biscuit when Luke sighs, “Uh-oh. She needs out.”

“You don’t think Janie took her for a walk?” Spencer asks with hope.

“I think Roxie says she needs out.” There’s no winning an argument with a bladder.

Spencer’s bottom lip slides forward in a pout, an actual pout, which makes Luke laugh, and then Spencer’s laughing. Life sometimes gets in the way, but they are grown adults who can handle it. “I’m sorry, Roxie,” Spencer pulls her leash off the hook and attaches it to her collar, “You were a very good dog to wait for us, and you are entitled to a walk.” He turns to Luke, “A short walk.”

They join hands for the descent to the sidewalk, following the happy girl to her favorite tree. Spencer leans against Luke, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as they watch the dog pee. It’s a slight alteration to the night they planned. They give her the exercise of a circle around the block and then coax her back home. 

Once in the bedroom, Luke closes the door to keep out all further distractions and turns to Spencer, “Did the dog peeing ruin the mood?”

Spencer frowns, “There is no good answer here.”

Luke snorts, “Let me try again.” He cups Spencer’s face in both hands and leans in for a sweet kiss, then drags one hand down and follows it with his lips. “I want you.”

Spencer inhales sharply when Luke’s tongue finds that spot where his neck and shoulder meet, “Yes!” He lets out a soft cry at the feeling of teeth, and then Luke kisses it better. Spencer takes in a shaky breath before dragging Luke toward the bed. He has an idea, holds up a finger like a ready showman and slowly pulls the rose from his lapel. The petals come off easily in his hand, and he scatters them across the comforter.

Luke smiles, “Are you romancing me?”

“Yes.” Spencer pulls Luke into him and claims his mouth in a kiss. He drags his fingernails along Luke’s scalp, eliciting shivers and moans. “I love you.”

“I love you so much!” Luke grabs him, lifting him slightly to fall next to him on the bed. Now that he knows shows of strength are more than welcome, he’ll pepper those in as much as possible.

With a wiggle, Spencer’s suit jacket goes soaring over the bed and he gets right to unfastening the buttons at his wrists. Luke helps, undoing the ones down the front, and Spencer’s shirt falls to the floor. Spencer reaches over with both hands to lift that burgundy sweater up Luke’s chest and over his head. They caress the newly exposed skin, always thrilled to get to see each other like this, touch like this. 

Spencer takes a moment just to admire. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Hey, right back at ‘ya. Every day with you is better than the last.”

“It’s like we’re in a dream, but better, because when I wake up you’re still here,” Spencer says in a rush, then upon reflection he bites his lip, “That was cheesy.”

“I love cheese,” Luke grins, then leans lower to kiss along Spencer’s jaw. “Mozzarella, Provolone, Brie-”

“Okay,” Spencer blushes.

Luke kisses down his throat, “Cheddar, Pepperjack, Colby…”

“Yes, you like cheese,” Spencer can’t help the giggle that bubbles up.

In a thick Spanish accent, Luke finishes with,  _ “Manchego!” _

Spencer starts to laugh, but then there’s suction on his clavicle and all air leaves his body in a broken moan. 

“Now where was I?” Luke asks in a playful tone, tonguing the hollow at the base of Spencer’s throat.

“Lower,” Spencer pants out, stroking a hand down Luke’s back.

Luke moves down and kisses again, “Here?”

“Lower.”

“Here?”

“Yes!” Spencer pants, head thrown back. He focuses all his attention on the feeling of those lips, but then a hand brushes against his cheek and he forces his eyes open. 

Luke is looking at Spencer with a thrilling combination of lust and affection in his eyes, “I’m gonna love you forever.”

Spencer sighs, fully embracing such a future, “Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :-)


	29. Bloody

Finding a vehicle abandoned on the side of the road is suspicious, but it’s common enough in rural Isleton Virginia that Sheriff Viola Jefferson doesn’t think too much on it other than calling a tow truck and leaving a message with Arlene Buckman that should she see her ex-husband, to let him know where his truck is being held. 

When a month later, a sedan is reported abandoned in a parking lot, Jefferson tells herself that Josie Williams spends enough time in the back of men’s cars that it shouldn’t be too much a surprise she’d forget where she parked her own again. Williams isn’t home when she knocks, but the sheriff is sure she’ll show up. When she gets back to the department, she tells her deputies to keep an eye out for her, just in case. Then she remembers Mr. Buckman and asks if anyone has seen him, and someone says he was pretty sure he saw him at the Pic-n-Pac last week, so she lets it go to a back burner. Her department is stretched thin, so there’s a lot simmering back there.

It’s by chance Jefferson catches wind of the posts left on their online message board. Since it started in 1998, that board has been the funnel for cranky neighbors and disgruntled traffic violators to rail against the law, so it’s monitored by the receptionist, Greg Rapino, who felt the words “Justice has been served” were ominous but not noteworthy. When they repeat a month later, but in a longer message, he prints them out and leaves them on Jefferson’s desk. She gets to it the next morning.

“Justice has been served. You refuse to do your job, so now I must,” Jefferson reads the note aloud, then hollars out her office door, “Rapino, what is this?”

“Sorry?” he steps in, then sees the note. “Oh, yeah, just some odd messages from the board. Thought you might want a look.”

Jefferson looks at the dates of the two messages. They match when the vehicles were abandoned and her gut screams that that is no coincidence. She has her people prioritize the search for Buckman and Williams, and when they come up with nothing by the end of the day she officially labels them Missing Persons, with a note that foul play is suspected. It would be strange for most people to go missing without notice, but, while very social, these individuals have no close kin, and they unfortunately slip through the cracks.

The following week, another message is left: “Do your job or he is next.”

The first body is discovered the next day. It’s Buckman, badly decomposed, his remains scattered by whichever predator discovered his shallow grave. They dig up the loose soil and find Williams. The county coroner finds signs of torture, shallow cuts meant to bleed over hours, and restraint at the wrists and ankles. It appears these two were victims of a serial killer, and whoever that is, they’ve already admitted to having their next victim.

Jefferson makes the call to the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for assistance.

Isleton is just an hour south of Quantico by car so the team caravans down in three black SUVs. The town sits along an S-curve of the Pamunkey River, has a single grocery store, a single bar, and a single school for all students kindergarten through high school. 

Parking on the street before the sheriff station, the team is greeted by Sheriff Jefferson and her Chief Deputy Woody Greyson with professional smiles and thanks for the trip out.

After introducing the team with little more than a list of their names as she points each one out, Prentiss gets right to business, “We’d like to read any and all files you have on this case, as well as hear anything you know about the victims. It will help us form our profile.”

“Absolutely, Agents.” Jefferson would give them just about anything right now. “Come on in.”

The department is small, four desks make up the bullpen behind reception, leaving just enough room for Jefferson’s office by the coffee counter. Opposite that is an L-shaped hallway leading to the holding cells and file room.

Garcia wheels a heavy-duty container of tech equipment, “Could you point me to your IT manager? I’d like to get integrating this hardware ASAP.” In her attempts to hack the Isleton Police website for IP address information, she discovered that not only was it exceptionally easy to find a back channel, but that the programming is so out of date it doesn’t store any visitor data. She likened it to breaking into a pop-up tent without even a sleeping bag inside.

“Er,” Greyson frowns, “you can talk to Rapino at reception. He’s not really IT so much as he looks at the website every week?”

“Okay,” Garcia takes that with as much grace as she can muster, only a shadow of horror crossing her features. “Okay, I can do that.” Her wedges clop as she walks the six feet back to the front desk.

“Most of the case files are up on the wall.” Jefferson points to the area by the window where, in absence of an evidence board, they’ve pinned photos and notes from this case into the drywall. “Everything else is in these folders,” she hands the thin pile to Prentiss, who flips through it before displaying it on the desk nearest her team.

“It doesn’t seem you have much to go on.” There’s little noted that they weren’t privy to before the drive. 

Jefferson nods, “That’s why we called you in. Both victims were single, lived alone, liked to party. They went to the same church, but so does half the town.”

Prentiss processes this, “All right, who on your team has the best rapport with the public?”

“Woody knows pretty much everyone,” Jefferson points to her chief deputy.

“I’d like him to take SSA Luke Alvez,” Prentiss indicates Luke, “to any of the places either victim frequented, interview the people who knew them best. Maybe they can give us the connection. Have you found the vehicle of the assumed third victim?”

“Not yet.”

“Have anyone on patrol canvass the lesser-driven roads. They may get lucky.” She turns to her team, “Rossi, Tara, I’d like you to go to the coroner’s office. Matt, JJ, go first to the dump site, then the places both cars were abandoned. Have Garcia text you the locations on your way out. Reid, start on the geographical profile and see what you can get on victimology from the board.”

Everyone breaks for their assignments. Luke and Spencer lock eyes. Spencer taps a single finger once to his pocket, where his cell phone is, and Luke gives a slight nod, and everyone is off to catch a killer.

Prentiss leads Jefferson back toward her office, “Has the media caught wind of this yet?”

“Not yet, no.”

“I’d like to discuss that with you.” 

Spencer eyes the large wrinkled map held to the wall with two blue thumbtacks. It has red ink marking where the bodies were found and where the cars were abandoned. He grumbles to himself, you never use the same color for different data points. He finds a handful of colorful Sharpies in a pen holder on the nearest desk and commonderes them, extrapolating and plotting. 

Garcia passes by on her way down the hall, because next to the rather large file storage room is a rather small server closet which is more dust than technology. There are wires that twist and knot for ten feet just to end up plugged into nothing, and by the outlet, three power strips are used to piggy back electricity to a short cord in a spectacular fire hazard. She’s seen less chaos in her worst tech-nightmares.

Spencer feels the text message arrive before he hears it. He’s excited, almost sure it’s Luke, and yanks his phone from his pocket.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I hope you’re having fun with your map! ** _

A big, goofy grin spreads across Spencer’s face. It’s the perfect kind of humor to power him through this complex task, and he responds in kind. 

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Make new friends! ** _

Rapino shouts from reception, “We got another message!”

Spencer spins toward the voice, watching Prentiss and Jefferson emerge from the office and following them up front.

“It was posted just fifteen minutes ago.” Rapino reads it aloud, “You were too late to save him. Justice has been served. Your dereliction of duty is the true sin. Whose blood will next stain your hands?”

“Damn,” Prentiss hoofs it down the hallway, calling out as soon as she turns the corner, “Garcia, where are we with that server?”

Garcia sticks a baffled face out of the doorway. She’s half an hour into a technological miracle here and she’s being asked for an update? “I’m working with tech that predates the Spice Girls here. It’s going to take time to integrate systems if you don’t want to lose data or alert the unsub of what we’re doing, but I promise I’m working as fast as my fingers can move!”

Prentiss runs her hand through her hair, returning to the bullpen, “Looks like we’re going old school for a while.”

“I’ve got everyone on the street.” Jefferson isn’t deterred. “We’re stretched thin out here, but it’s only a matter of time before they come across something.”

They cross the empty bullpen, because for Prentiss the more she moves the better she thinks. “Okay, Reid, I hope you have something for us.”

Spencer steps back over to his wall and scribbled-on map, “The town is divided into these two main sections, with the shopping center located on this end and the municipal services here, where we are, and it’s connected along this stretch of road along the river. The cars were abandoned across town from each other, and the dump site is on the outskirts up here, between both points. Unfortunately, with two murders, there just isn’t much information to plot, so at this point, the geographical profile includes the entire town.”

“All right,” Prentiss feels her wheels spinning, “start on victimology.”

Spencer takes two steps to the left, standing before photographs of the victims and scribbled details about their lives, whatever the deputies could think of. 

Arthur Buckman was forty-seven, living off disability and alimony from ex-wife Arlene. Born in Colorado, no children, no pets, was late often enough on rent that his landlord didn’t think much of the recent lack of a check. Two unpaid parking tickets.

Josie Williams was thirty-two, last employed part-time at the gas station though some suspect she may have made extra cash via occasional prostitution. Her mother died when she was fifteen, father a few years later, no siblings, never married. She once got into a shouting match with a neighbor about the poor state of her lawn. 

Spencer lets the idea of a Morality Enforcer float around his mind, though if you look close enough at most people you’ll find a myriad of transgressions. He looks at the autopsy photographs, sees the shallow cuts marring the victim’s torsos and arms. Cause of death on both was exsanguination, extreme blood loss over _many_ _hours._ These victims were being punished.

“We got another message!” Rapino calls out. Spencer, Prentiss, and Jefferson join him again in reception, and in the digital age of video chatting and instant messaging, this form of communication is almost comically inefficient. “You have all been abandoned for your sins. Justice is the most powerful force and I am it's only true weapon.”

Spencer speaks up, “This is the second use of the word sin. It might point to a religious ideology behind the motive. God is often depicted as the arbiter of justice; perhaps there’s a deeper association with the church, a ranking member or a devout follower?” 

“Okay…” Prentiss whips out her phone and taps away. “I’ll get Luke on that, then see what Tara and Rossi have found. 

_ Emily Prentiss → BAU Team _ _   
_ _ Luke, possible connection with church. Unsub brings up sin. Look into it? _

While Prentiss makes her call, Spencer returns to his board and lets his mind flip through psychology textbooks and old case files for a mentality that fits the evidence. Morality Enforcer still lists high, and that can often cross MOs with an Injustice Collector. There is no obvious sexual component, which narrows it down considerably. They might certainly be a Visionary, deifying Justice and believing they kill in its name. There’s a clear aspect of power and control, since the unsub is reaching out to taunt the police.

“Has anyone heard from Luke?” Prentiss calls out, sounding annoyed.

Spencer is the only one in the bullpen, so he responds, “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“He’s not responding. Damn rural cell service…” she grumbles outside, staring at her phone like it might go, ‘Oh, here’s the signal! It was waiting on the porch!’

Spencer’s reception is fine. Score for the ancient phone! He sends off a quick text.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Prentiss is trying to reach you. She’s on a tirade. _

His phone goes into his pocket and he ponders the board some more. Ten minutes go by when he emerges from his thoughts with the uncomfortable realization that Luke hasn’t responded. He must still be in an area with poor reception. The town likely has only one cell tower.

Prentiss comes in, face dark with concern. She walks up to Rapino, “Your deputies have radios, right? Can you call out to Chief Deputy Greyson? I can’t get through to my agent who’s with him.”

“Yes Ma’am, I can do that right here.” He presses a single button to send a message out on the police radio frequency, holding a receiver to his mouth, “Deputy Greyson, check in. Deputy Greyson, check in.”

They wait a minute. Two minutes. Three.

“Sometimes they’re away from the radios for a bit,” Rapino explains before trying again. “Deputy Greyson, check in. Deputy Greyson, check in.”

Prentiss takes the mouthpiece from Rapino and pulls on the coiled cord until it reaches her face, “Luke, respond.” Silence. Not even a crackle on the line. She doesn’t wait a full minute, just storms through the bullpen and down that hallway, “We need Garcia.”

Spencer stares at his phone’s screen, at the spot where Luke’s message should be. They promised each other they’d always text back. If he doesn’t have a signal, that isn’t his fault… But Luke always texts back.

Prentiss returns with Garcia speedily clopping behind, a tablet in her hand. “I finished the hardware and now I just have to integrate the software, but I’m close! I’m talking half an hour, tops!”

Prentiss holds up a hand, “I need you to ping the location of Luke’s phone

“On it!” Garcia taps away, then frowns. “That’s weird…”

“Garcia?” Her tone is not to be messed with.

“His phone isn’t responding to my ping.”

Prentiss crosses her arms across her chest, “Could that be because there’s no reception?”

“No,” Garcia shakes her head, afraid of the words she’s about to speak, “it means it’s dead. Not just off, but dead, as in dead dead.”

It’s a lot of the word dead and it keeps echoing in Spencer’s mind, but he needs to shut it out. He’s overreacting. Luke is fine. Luke is always fine. He has to be fine because they are going to love each other forever.

“Another message came in just now!” Rapino shouts. He doesn’t wait for anyone to join him, just reads it out at top volume, “How does it feel to lose your own? They are paying for Your sins. Tell Linda that Woody pissed himself on the second cut. Shame you won’t be able to get blood out of such a nice green shirt.”

The station falls into silence for a beat as everyone processes that, and then Prentiss sends Garcia a desperate look. Garcia drops into the nearest seat and taps frantically on her screen.

Rapino turns to face everyone with a confused expression, “Woody wasn’t wearing a green shirt.”

“Luke is.” Spencer can see that hunter green T-shirt perfectly in his memory. He watched Luke put it on this morning, complimented how it brought out his eyes, and then Luke kissed him. He can feel tears welling up and he spins back to his wall of evidence. He can’t break down, he needs to keep working. Luke needs him. 

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ We’re coming. Hold on. _

He knows Luke won’t be able to read his text, but it’s the only way Spencer can think to send him hope. He puts the message into the airwaves so it may find its way to Luke any way it can. Behind him everyone works on Lojack and canvassing priorities and tracing and contacting the team… Spencer just stares at his wall of useless evidence. His eyes focus on those autopsy photos and all he can see is Luke. Luke cut, Luke bleeding, Luke dying. 

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’m sorry. I love you so much! ** _

Spencer has to think. He’s a genius, and if he ever needed to use those 187 IQ points it would be now, for Luke, but he’s frozen. Luke is being tortured  _ right now _ and he’s frozen. Spencer shoves his fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp to try and get to that traitorous brain and make it  _ work. _

He tunes back in to Rapino’s voice, shouting out the next message from the unsub: “Don’t know how long these ones will last. They seem to be bleeding faster. Justice is thirsty.”

Spencer feels his hands start to shake. Acid rises in his chest and it’s difficult to breathe around it. He has to put a hand on the wall to steady himself, and it’s right next to those photos that still look to him like Luke. Spencer is failing him. If their roles were reversed, if Spencer were in trouble, Luke would be helping right now. Luke would be able to save him, and all Spencer can do is fight nausea. He has to focus.

The unsub seems organized. That offers statistics, and Spencer can work with those. They’re likely looking for a white male, age twenty-five to forty-five, in a menial job with a higher than average IQ and strong social skills. It’s essentially the default profile of a serial killer, but it’s more than nothing. 

“No no no!” Garcia cries out at her screen. “It’s too soon, I’m not ready!” She looks up at the wide and anxious eyes around her, “He posted again, but I don’t have the IP trace set yet. I’m sorry!”

“What’s it say?” Someone asks, Spencer isn’t sure who. He’s having trouble hearing anything over the roar in his ears, but when Garcia speaks he zeros in on her voice.

“Shouldn’t be long now. Woody’s trying to pray but no one’s listening. They’re begging me not to kill them. It isn’t up to me. Only Justice can decide. Their fate is sealed.” Her voice breaks and when she looks up guilt is written all over her face, “I almost have the trace up. I’m so close!” She buries herself in programming again. 

The wall slams into Spencer’s back. Rather, he falls back into it. The map crinkles under his weight and a thumbtack stabs into his shoulder. He can’t see past the images in his mind. He isn’t seeing Luke in pain any longer. No, he’s seeing Luke on their first date holding that picnic basket, seeing him ducking his face into Spencer’s shoulder during the scary parts of a horror movie, seeing him hold an ice pack to Spencer’s chest as he strokes Spencer’s hair. He sees Luke loving him. 

“Oh god!” Garcia’s hand flies over her mouth. Tears flood her eyes and she shakes her head, “I- I can’t!”

Prentiss leans over her shoulder to read aloud the unsub’s message that so upset Garcia, “Luke died bloody. Maybe you’ll be in time to save Woody.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :-)


	30. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first bit will seem familiar. We're starting back when the team just arrived at the Sheriff's department, and then we're gonna follow Luke's perspective.

“It doesn’t seem you have much to go on.” The team stares down at the files spread over the desk and see nothing they weren’t already privy to before the drive down to Isleton.

Sheriff Jefferson nods, “That’s why we called you in. Both victims were single, lived alone, liked to party. They went to the same church, but so does half the town.”

Prentiss processes this, “All right, who on your team has the best rapport with the public?”

“Woody knows pretty much everyone,” Jefferson points to her chief deputy.

“I’d like him to take SSA Luke Alvez,” Prentiss indicates Luke, “to any of the places either victim frequented, interview the people who knew them best. Maybe they can give us the connection. Have you found the vehicle of the assumed third victim?”

“Not yet.”

“Have anyone on patrol canvass the lesser-driven roads. They may get lucky.” She turns to her team, “Rossi, Tara, I’d like you to go to the coroner’s office. Matt, JJ, go first to the dump site, then the places both cars were abandoned. Have Garcia text you the locations on your way out. Reid, start on the geographical profile and see what you can get on victimology from the board.”

Everyone breaks for their assignments. Luke and Spencer lock eyes. Spencer taps a single finger once to his pocket, where his cell phone is, and Luke gives a slight nod, and everyone is off to catch a killer.

Before they reach Woody’s patrol car, Luke sticks his hand out to his temporary partner, “Woody, you can call me Luke.”

Woody smiles, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He’s a man who smiles often. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Luke. Sure was nice of you all to come down here on such short notice.” He gets behind the wheel.

Luke climbs into the passenger seat, buckling in, “So, where should we head first?”

Pulling out onto the road, Woody sucks his teeth before responding, “We should start at the church, catch Pastor Sam, then head on over to Roscoe’s.”

“Roscoe’s?”

“The ol’ watering hole. Everyone goes there for a drink, since there’s nowhere else. What gossip you can’t get at the church, you can get there.”

The church is mostly a bust. While both victims were members, they only attended services sporadically and on holidays. Luke cheers himself up by sending a text to Spencer, and is delighted to receive a joke in return. He loves that cute man.

The bar owner, Fred Roscoe, is at least more familiar with Buckman and Williams than anyone at the church was. They’re regular customers of his, though he doesn’t seem to have a shortage of regular customers, seeing as it’s not even 11:00 AM and he’s already got a few people clinging to their stools and throwing sheets to the wind. Roscoe calls his son from the back to help him dole out the next round before sending him off to change out a keg, then leads ‘the fine men of the law’ to a booth in the far corner with ripped leather seats and a sticky table.

“What is it about them you’d like to know?” Roscoe asks, fingernails scraping at a soggy cardboard coaster. “They were both here often enough, as are a lot of people. Buck started coming here after that wife left him, and Jos’ met a lot of guys here, but I keep it strictly clean on these premises.”

“We’re just looking for connections, something they had in common that might help us understand why they were targeted,” Luke explains with his calming tone and trustworthy smile. The bar owner isn’t defensive yet, but he’s edging in that direction.

“The connection is they both lived here. Not much to do aside from what we all do,” Roscoe says plainly. “We get our food at the Pic-n-Pac, take our cars to Suzie’s Garage, get furniture from the Huangs’ shop next to the laundromat... “ He shrugs, “Not a lot separates us out here. Woody can tell you that.”

Woody nods, showing Roscoe he’s on his side, “True that. We’re just hoping to find out what their last days were like, hoping you might know something we don’t.” It’s a stroke to the man’s ego, a subtle tactic Luke can respect.

“All I can tell you is last time they were here, they were happy, having a good time, not a care in the world.” Roscoe isn’t going to give them anything. He doesn’t seem to be withholding, though, just offended at their mere presence.

Woody stands, sticking his hand out toward Roscoe, “Thank you so much for your time, Fred. We’ll be on our way, lots of stops to make. If you think of anything, just give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll see you Friday as always.” 

Roscoe’s shoulders drop, instantly relaxing as he shakes Woody’s hand. “I understand, you’re just doing your job. I’ll show you gentlemen out.”

Woody drives them through a patch of dense forest that covers most of the area around Isleton, and Luke takes time to admire the trees. His window is rolled down to let the breeze in and he can smell the pine. “You sure live in a beautiful area.”

“Don’t I know it,” Woody nods with pride. He doesn’t just live here, he protects this place and its people.

The road slopes down toward a turn where it looks out over the Pamunkey River majestically sparkling in the late-morning sun.

A truck is behind them, coming up fast on their rear. Not wise to do to law enforcement… Luke twists around to see out the back window, “It’s the guy from the bar.”

“Probably drunk,” Woody grumbles. They’re closing in on the turn, and Woody presses down on the brake pedal. It hits the floor. They don’t slow down. In a panic, Woody taps the brake, trying to gain some traction, but it’s no use. The brakes aren’t working and they’re racing straight for the road’s edge. He turns the wheel, trying not to take it too sharply, trying not to flip.

There’s a guardrail which they bypass completely. Luke has just enough time to think, ‘There’s no way we’re going over that cliff,’ before the wheels skid through gravel and they slide off the edge. Falling is strangely quiet, no noise of wheels on pavement, just wind, the thin air they’re dropping through. They’re tilted and they can see the river rushing up at them through Woody’s window. There’s nothing they can do but brace for impact. They both take deep breaths. Water is coming.

Glass shatters, metal crunches, the river claws at them. They’re moving fast, rushing along with the flow. Luke has to shake himself to regain his focus. They have to get out of this car. They need to get to shore. Swim. They have to swim. He moves forward, feeling his seatbelt yank him back, and his hand fumbles for the buckle. “We need to move!” he shouts, turning to Woody. 

Woody isn’t moving. There’s blood down his face, and he’s unconscious, hanging limply from his seatbelt. Luke shouts his name, but he doesn’t respond. There isn’t time to wake him. The car is sinking below the waves. Luke undoes Woody’s belt and wraps an arm around the man’s back. He drags the unconscious man into his own seat, then pulls himself through the open passenger window, climbing atop the car’s roof. Reaching in, he hoists Woody up, and then he throws both of them into the murky depths. 

Luke’s head drops below the water and he kicks hard to get back to the surface. It takes an extra pull to lift Woody’s face into the air, and then Luke is swimming them toward shore. He kicks, pulling through the water with one arm, and with each surge forward, he’s shoved much further downriver. The shore is far, and it doesn’t seem to be getting closer as Luke kicks frantically toward it. They’re fully clothed, the wet material dragging them down, and Woody is dead weight in Luke’s grasp. The water is frigid, numbing Luke’s limbs, but he can’t stop. He can’t pause a second or the river will swallow them whole.

Woody feels heavier as Luke grows weaker, and the shore is still so far. He’s shivering, wasting what little energy he has left. He kicks, but the river keeps surging. He pulls, and the water rises. It splashes his face and fills his mouth. He coughs, chokes. His head falls below the surface and he strains to lift it back up. 

Spencer. He pictures Spencer’s face, the way he looked at Luke just before their first kiss, how elated he was when he first proclaimed his love, that soft smile he has when they’ve just woken up. Luke is not dying in this river. 

With a power from deep within him, Luke surges through the current, his lungs and muscles screaming. Again he cuts across the rushing flow. His foot hits something hard, a rock, and he kicks off of it. The shore is closer now, he’s sure of it. He’s almost there. He can get them there. 

He finds the river bed, slick and rocky, and digs his shoes in. The river is weaker here. He pulls Woody up with him, holds him close to his chest, walking backwards to dry land. He drags them through swampy reeds and mud until finally collapsing on a grassy slope. 

He needs to check on Woody, but now that he’s down he can’t get up. He exhausted the auxiliary battery and he’s powering down. He’s still heaving for air when darkness takes him.

  
  


Luke wakes up shivering and aching. Even opening his eyes takes effort. He groans, trying to force his limbs to work. Sitting up requires every muscle in his body, every one of them sore to the bone. He needs to call for help. His hand goes to his pockets, but finds them empty. A river is an expert thief. He doesn’t know how long he’s been gone. It’s possible they’re already out searching. He brings his wrist to his eyes to see the time. There’s a crack cross the face and the hands aren’t moving; it’s broken, frozen to the time of impact. 

Woody! He needs to check on Woody. He ignores the dull pain in his body as he staggers to his knees. Woody is close, lying on his side, blood still oozing from a gash on his forehead. Oozing blood means a pumping heart, and that means life. He’s breathing, his breaths are shallow, but he’s breathing. Luke drops a limp hand down to pat Woody’s cheek, but gets no response. His skin is cold, the air is cold, and they won’t regain their strength letting cold seep in. They need help. The strap that held the personal radio to Woody’s shoulder is ripped, the radio gone, and there’s no cell phone in his pockets, so they’re on their own.

Luke needs to get them moving, get them back to town. First, he needs to stop that head wound from bleeding. He needs to fasten a bandage out of something. His shirt. His shirt is cotton and should rip easily enough. He has to get his jacket off, and even though it’s wet, it’s absorbed his body heat enough that the air against his skin is a shock to his system. He shouts, an exaggerated “Brrr!” then grabs the hem and yanks, unraveling a strip twice around his middle. It’s long enough to use. He quickly shakes back into his coat and ties the bandage around Woody’s head. That should help.

Time to get moving. He surveys the area. They traveled the curve of the river and in order to get back they’re going to have to hike around it, through rocky wilderness, and for the moment, Woody isn’t hiking. Woody is going to have to be carried. He isn’t a large man, but he’s heavy enough to make this slow. Luke shoves his shoulder into Woody’s stomach, hoists him up, then pushes himself to his feet. He grunts loudly with the effort. “You owe me a beer.” His feet squish in his wet socks and he groans, “Two beers.”

There isn’t a path, not many idiots have found themselves in this particular situation, so Luke gets to blaze his own. He weaves between trees, dry brush snagging his pants and scratching at his legs. “Steak dinner!” Luke adds to his bill. “With a baked potato, and a whole stick of butter.”

He makes it half a mile, telling himself it was more, before he needs to rest. He lowers Woody against a tree and then, without the responsibility on his shoulder, Luke’s body just falls to the ground. He doesn’t argue, just lies in the soft leaves as his body whines at him. 

Woody groans. 

“Woody?” Luke gasps, heaving himself up into a sitting position. “Woody, you waking up?”

Woody winces, makes a questioning sound in his throat. He lifts his head, then drops his chin back to his chest.

“Hey!” Luke grabs a small rock and tosses it weakly at Woody’s chest. “Don’t you fall back to sleep!”

The rock rouses him, and he shakes his head once before hissing in pain.

“Yep, you banged your head, which means concussion, so you stay awake. You hear me? Stay! Awake!” He has his hands on Woody now, grabbing his shoulders to scream in his face.

Woody’s eyes pop open, blinking and unfocused. “Eh?”

“How many fingers?” Luke asks, holding his hand up.

Woody blinks hard, narrowing his vision. “Three.”

“All right, good. What’s your name?”

“Petty Officer First Class Woodrow Greyson, Sir!” 

Luke nods slowly at that, not yet letting himself worry about brain damage and memory loss, “You were in the Navy, then?”

Woody closes his eyes, frowns, grunts at the pain in his head, then opens up, “Yeah. Yeah, I was.” His eyes widen, “We crashed!”

Luke lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Yeah, we did. Lost the car, so you get to deal with  _ that _ paperwork.”

Woody grabs Luke’s wrist, eyes suddenly panicked, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Luke pats his arm comfortingly, “No, you took the brunt of it.”

Woody sighs. “How long have we been out here?”

“Not sure. I sort of passed out after  _ heroically _ swimming us to shore.”

Woody frowns, confused, then whispers, “The river.” He lost consciousness as soon as they hit the water, so he has no memory past the fall. He can put the pieces together, though. “You saved my life.”

“Yeah,” Luke smiles, “you’re gonna buy me dinner.”

“Hell yeah, I am!” Woody laughs. “Tell you what, I’ll  _ make _ you dinner! Ask my wife, I make a pot roast that’d convert a vegan.”

Luke snorts at that, shaking his head, and then he sighs heavily, “I’m beat, but we gotta get going.”

“Yeah,” Woody nods, then grimaces as it jostles his bruised brain. He leans against the tree to get himself up, then holds his head as his vision spins. With a deep breath, he pushes off the tree and starts hiking. Luke’s happy to follow for a while.

They stay near the river, using it to guide them and ensure they don’t wind up walking in circles as the trees all start looking the same. They aren’t fast. The cold has sapped a lot of their strength, and with Luke’s spent muscles and Woody’s head wound, they’re pretty lucky to be walking at all, but they stubbornly refuse to quit. They both have a lot to live for.

Woody stumbles, grabs a tree, and sinks to his knees, “I need a break!” He leans away, moans for a second before splattering vomit against the bark. 

“We should sit for a minute,” Luke decides, concerned and sympathetic. 

Woody’s breathing heavily through his nose, his head falling toward his chest as he groans.

“Hey, hey! Woody, eyes up!”

Woody sits back on his heels, head in his hands.

“You said you had a wife. Tell me about her.” Luke tries to keep that desperate note out of his voice, but he doesn’t succeed. 

“Linda?” Woody asks, confused. He thinks a bit, “We met in high school. She waited for me, when I joined, and we wrote letters. I proposed to her the day I was discharged. Bought the ring at the airport.” He smiles, the memory pleasant and the pain subsiding.

“Got any kids?”

“Two. Both girls. Rachel’s in college, Sarah is graduating high school next year. They both got their brains from their mom, lucky ducks. Couldn’t have asked for a more perfect family.”

“That’s nice.” Luke leans forward to send his next words with a bit more force, “You’re gonna see them tonight.”

Woody swallows, closes his eyes for a bit, but he’s still alert, head still held high. “What about you? You married?”

“Not yet. I hope to be soon,” Luke smiles to himself.

“You’ll find someone,” Woody encourages.

“Oh, I found him!” Luke laughs, giddy just at the thought of his love. “He’s  _ perfect. _ For our first date, he took me on a scavenger hunt through my neighborhood to find the stuff he got for a picnic. He told me he loved me with this big bouquet, where each flower had its own special meaning. He’s brilliant, as in he’s an actual doctor.”

“Huh, could use him right about now.”

“You have no idea.”

“He sounds great. How long have you two been together?”

“Just a few months, actually.”

“Hmm, new love,” Woody thinks fondly of when he had that with Linda. It was exciting and sweet, but what it grew into was so much better. “Tell me more about him.”

“Uh, you actually met him,” Luke confesses.

Woody’s eyebrows shoot up, “He’s on your team, then? Wait…” his eyes go distant, and Luke has time to worry before Woody snaps back, “the tall one, with the curly hair. Reid, I think.”

Luke laughs, impressed, “How’d you know?”

“Well, your team isn’t  _ huge, _ but also, before we left you gave each other this  _ look.” _

“You saw that?” Luke was under the impression they were discrete, but here they announced themselves on the job.

“Oh, I didn’t think much of it at the time. Figured it was some covert FBI thing,” he winks, smiling at his own joke. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He scrapes at the soft earth beside him, scooping some up in his palm and holding it in the air as a toast, “To you and Reid, may you have many happy years together.”

With a wide grin, Luke grabs a handful of dirt and taps his fingers to Woody’s, “To you and Linda. You’re making us both pot roast.”

“Cheers to that,” they let the dirt fly with the wind down the path behind them. Woody leans forward, rising up, “All right, I’m ready.”

Luke falls in line and they get back to their slow but steady pace. 

“Hey!” Woody turns his head to call behind him over the distant roar of the river, “Back in the car, who’d you say that was following us?”

“Oh, right!” Luke can’t believe he forgot that part. “The bar owner’s son! The one serving drinks.”

“Benji?” 

“Yeah! He was  _ hauling it _ behind us, too.”

Woody ponders that a while. “Benji’s always been a bit odd. You can blame his daddy on that, I bet. When Fred got himself a new wife, he kicked Benji out of the house, had him move into an RV behind the bar. Poor guy was just seventeen.”

“In what way was he odd?” Luke feels something nagging at him.

“Oh, he wasn’t a troublemaker or anything. He just didn’t get along with most folks, kept to himself, just had a reputation for being a little off. He got himself a girlfriend, though. Fiance, actually, if I remember correctly. Sweet kid from the next town over. Shame what happened to her. She got ran off the road by a drunk driver, died before the ambulance could get to her.”

Luke lets that all filter through his brain. “Did she die a little over two months ago?”

“Wh- Yeah! It’s been ten weeks, how did you know?”

“Because in my line of work, losing a loved one, that’s what we call a trigger.”

“Wait, hold on.” Woody stops, turns back toward Luke, “You think little Benji is our unsub? Based on that?”

“What I think is, Benji saw us drive over that cliff, but I don’t hear any helicopters, do you? Because if he told anyone what happened to us, I can guarantee you there’d be helicopters.”

“Well, son of a…” Woody turns back around, increasing his pace through the trees. 

Luke is bone tired, but he trudges on. The profiler in him kicks into gear, giving him something to focus on beyond the ache in his joints. “What happened to the drunk driver?”

“Huh?” Woody isn’t thinking about the case. Woody is working on putting one foot in front of the other until he can guide them to safety, because that’s about all his battered head can manage. “Oh, he’s in jail up in King William.”

Luke nods to himself. That means he isn’t one of the victims. Noted. But that doesn’t mean… Something Fred Roscoe said about the first two victims replays in his mind: ‘They were happy, having a good time, not a care in the world.’ Maybe they didn’t care about driving home sober, either. “Woody, about Williams and Buckman, did they ever drive drunk?” 

Woody stops again, but this time he doesn’t turn around. His shoulders droop and he stares straight ahead. Luke moves in close behind him to make sure he can hear if he’s speaking, which is good because his voice is low, sad, “The economy didn’t bounce back for us like it did for most people. Some around here were hit hard. I’m not trying to ruin their lives based off a mistake. Now, I didn’t let them keep driving like that, no, no, I took them home myself. Made them find their own vehicles the next day, though. A little lesson of its own, hoping it’d stick.”

Luke comes around to Woody’s front, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Hey, I’m not here to judge you or how you serve your community. I’m here to help you catch a killer, and to do that, I need to understand his motivation. He seems to think of himself as intrinsically linked with justice, maybe that’s because he wants to punish those committing the crime that killed his fiance.”

Woody sighs, long and heavy, “So you think because I let them off with a warning, they were killed?”

“Nope,” Luke levels a very serious expression, “I think they were killed because your unsub is a violent and deranged person, and we’re going to catch him.”

Woody sucks in a deep breath and blows it out in one big huff. “Damn right, we are. What’re you slowing us down for?” There’s a twinkle in Woody’s eye as he passes Luke and takes the lead again, but his shoulders still hang a bit lower. This is going to weigh on him.

The forest thickens. They reach a point where the brush and fallen trees make it unpassable, and moving closer to the river just puts them on a cliff. Cliffs are not their friend today, so they try hiking deeper into the forest, away from their guiding waterway. 

Woody gasps, hand flying to his head. His vision spins; he can’t tell down from up, but he knows he’s falling. He hears his name being shouted, and then there’s a terrible burning in his leg. He cries out, one hand still on his head, the other low on his calf, clutching at the agony assaulting his body.

“You’re okay!” Luke assures before he actually knows if that’s true. He drops beside Woody, lifts a hand to check his leg, and can’t help the sympathetic hiss. “Yeah, that’s gonna scar. It’s all right, people will just think you’re a badass.”

Woody has to slow down his breathing or he’s going to throw up again. He cracks one eye open to take in the damage, then quickly shuts it. “Shit…” A rock managed to slice right through his pants and down a good six inches along his lower leg. It’s the kind of injury that would require stitches, if trees were doctors. 

Luke slips off his coat, quickly takes his shirt off, then throws the coat back on before the rest of his body heat can escape. “Here goes the rest of my shirt.” He doesn’t need to rip it, just folds it to the length of the gash and ties it around the calf. He sends an apologetic wince at Woody’s pained grunt.

Woody looks at Luke, his eyes commanding, “I need you to go get help, Kid.” He’s using his age as some sort of Wilderness Rank.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re doing. Now get up.” Luke taps his own shoulder to offer it as a crutch.

Woody shakes his head and lifts his chin in contrived authority, “I’m just gonna slow you down.”

“You’ve been slowing me down all day, old man,” Luke jokes, because he’s not going to treat any of this topic seriously. They are both walking out of here, together, and that’s final.

Woody drops the hand from his head to grip Luke’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “You’ve got to get back to Spencer.” He’s playing his high card with this move.

“And you have to get home to Linda. And-and Sarah and Rachel,” he pulls the names from memory. “What do you want me to tell them, I abandoned you because you got a scratch? Is that how they did it in the Navy, Sailor? Because in the Army, we don’t leave anyone behind.”

“Should’ve known someone as stubborn as you would be Army,” Woody huffs.

“Army Ranger,” Luke adds, because any reputation a grunt has, it goes double for the Rangers.

“Even worse.” His resolve is weakening.

“I carried your lazy butt across a river and over ten miles of wilderness.” It’s an exaggeration, but it’s also the story Luke is going to stick to. “I can help you hobble. Get up.”

With Luke’s help, Woody rises to his feet. It hurts. Every step is going to pull at his open wound, but he didn’t break bone, didn’t rip tendon, didn’t tear muscle. He can walk. Side-by-side is more difficult to navigate, and they quickly learn some tricky maneuvers to get between trees and over rocks with Luke still acting as a crutch. 

The sun is hanging low in the sky. It was cold before, and now it’s colder, a fact that is as predictable as it is inconvenient. They can’t be out here past dark. They need to reach a road before the temperature drops below freezing and they succumb to the elements. 

They’re starving. What meager breakfasts they consumed are long since digested; they’re running on fumes. They’re dehydrated, which is ridiculous when you almost drowned and your socks are still soaked, and they’re only a few hundred feet from an actual river of water, but they can’t stop, can’t do anything other than walk through the trees until they find a road.

Dusk arrives and it’s harder to see. They move even slower; they can’t risk tripping over the roots and rocks that litter the forest floor. Their muscles are cramping, tightening and seizing as they’re forced to keep moving. 

“I can’t keep going!” Woody gasps out, stumbling over dense brush.

“Yes, you can!” Luke urges.

Woody shakes his head, trying to slow down against Luke’s pushing, “I think I need to stop here.”

“Then quit thinking.”

He struggles to take his next step, “Kid, unless you want to carry me again, leave me here.”

“If you fall, I fall. If we fall, we die. You want that?” Luke doesn’t let him drop, keeps moving them forward, his arm tight around Woody. “I need you to get me home to Spencer. You hear me? I need you! Don’t you quit on me!” He shouldn’t shout, he doesn't have the energy, but he believes what he’s saying with his whole terrified heart. 

Woody winces, consciously having to force every movement of his legs. He can barely feel his injury anymore, so consumed with pain.

“Look!” Luke points, and Woody pushes his head up with a grunt. Two white lights shine through the branches, moving fast, and disappear. 

Woody blinks, not sure what he saw. 

“Headlights!” Luke explains, and if he had tears to cry he would. There’s a road ahead, a road with people who can help them. They have hope. “It’s not far. Come on!” They have to get there. They can’t get this close and not make it. They’re so close.

Low hanging branches claw at their faces, the forest wanting to keep its prize, but they press on. Woody snags his boot on a root and loses his footing with a pained grunt, but Luke tightens his hold, keeps him from falling, and pushes them both forward. They’re going to make it.

The trees break. The dirt becomes asphalt. They’ve made it to the road. Woody collapses to his knees, panting heavily, and Luke lets him rest there. He can flag down a car on his own; Woody has done enough.

The night is silent. No cars come for several minutes. Luke’s brain unhelpfully conjures images of them waiting here all night, no one coming, their efforts wasted. Luke shakes the thought away and replaces it with memories of Spencer, of his laughter, of the feeling of his hugs, of the taste of his curry which he makes every time Luke asks. Spencer is waiting for him, and there’s no way the universe would abandon him on the side of this road with Spencer waiting for him.

There’s a sound. Wheels on pavement, air being pushed by a vehicle. Luke is sure of it. “You hear that?” Woody doesn’t answer.

A harsh white glow hits the trees, moving toward them. Luke lifts his arms, waving them frantically as the car comes into view. “Please stop,” he whispers into the freezing air. “Please stop.”

The car slows. The window rolls down and a voice calls out, “You need help?”

“Yes! We need help, please!” Luke is begging.

“Woody?” the driver throws her door open and runs to them. “Woody, is that you? What happened?”

“Giang?” Woody looks up, face dazed with relief. “Oh, am I happy to see you!”

“We need to get him to a hospital,” Luke explains. “Can you help me get him up?”

Giang lifts one arm and Luke lifts the other and they pull him into the back seat. Luke runs around to get in beside Woody as Giang gets back behind the wheel.

Dropping into the cushioned seat, no longer having to support his own body weight, or that of another, it’s as close to ecstasy as his body can manage, the upholstery cradling his very soul. 

“Take us to the Sheriff's Station,” Woody shocks them both with his request. He clearly needs a hospital now.

“Woody-” Luke starts to argue, but he’s quickly shot down.

“We need to inform them of what we figured out. Once that’s settled, I’ll spend the next week in a hospital bed, promise.” 

“Sure thing, Woody,” Giang pulls back onto the road, happy to follow the directions of the friendly Chief Deputy she’s known for years. She reaches into her passenger seat and hands back a full Nalgene, “You both look thirsty.”

“Thank you,” Luke says as sincerely as he’s ever said it in his life. He untwists the lid and holds it to Woody’s lips, slowly tipping it to help him drink. Woody looks like he wants to protest the treatment, but he quickly realizes how much his own limbs don’t want to cooperate, so he just drinks. He drinks until the bottle is half empty, and then Luke finishes it off. It’s greedy of them, but they could have died. 

“I’m Luke Alvez,” Luke announces when he realizes he’s yet to introduce himself to their hero. “I can not thank you enough. You saved our lives.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke, and I’m happy to help,” she responds without turning back, which Luke appreciates, since the last thing they need is another car crash. 

“This is Giang Tran,” Woody supplies, his voice rummy with relief. “Her family runs the hardware and lumber yard. They’re the lifeblood of this town, and an angel on Earth, every one of them.” He’s gushing, but he believes every word.

The lights of the Sheriff’s Department come into view and both men sigh heavily. It’s over. They made it. 

Giang pulls in front of the entrance and gets out to help Woody stand. Luke comes around the vehicle, ready to join the effort.

The front door flies open, Rapino from reception shouting, “Oh my god, Woody!” He rushes to them, followed by Sheriff Jefferson, Prentiss, and lastly Garcia. They all looked shocked.

Luke has important information he needs to convey. “We think the unsub is Benji Roscoe! He was chasing us right when the brakes failed and he saw our car go over the cliff-”

“Benji Roscoe is in custody,” Prentiss says, her face still pale and confused. “He’s already confessed to the murders.”

There’s something she isn’t saying, something huge. 

After a beat, Prentiss finishes, “Including yours.”

Now it’s Luke’s turn to be shocked. Garcia throws her arms around him with a teary, “Don’t you ever scare us like that again!” but Luke can’t think past  _ ‘They thought I was dead.’  _ It consumes him, steals his breath and he has to gasp it back in, and all he can say is, “Where’s Spencer?”

Garcia steps back, pointing behind her, “In the file room.”

Luke rushes past her, throwing open the door and running down the hall. The file room is large, with rows of tall cabinets, but in the far corner, surrounded by scattered documents, is Spencer. He’s pacing, hands shoving back his hair in that way he does when he’s stressed. Luke moves in close, “Spencer?”

Spencer looks up and sees Luke. His face fills with horror. He holds up his arms like he’s afraid if he reaches for him his hands will go right through him. 

Luke grabs one of those hands and presses it into his face, “Spencer, I’m okay.”

“Luke?” Spencer sobs out, his voice rough and raw, and he still doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

“Yeah, Spencer, it’s me.” Luke pulls Spencer into him, holding him tight. He expects Spencer to cry because Luke’s crying, and this is an emotional moment. But Spencer is keening, high and miserable, and he’s dragging them down. Luke doesn’t have the strength to keep them up, so they collapse to the floor. 

Spencer clings too tightly, fingers digging into Luke’s back hard enough to make Luke hiss in pain, but Spencer doesn’t notice. He’s sobbing too loudly. His body shakes uncontrollably, and Luke can do nothing more than hold his broken boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, amazing readers, for continuing on this literary journey with me! I just noticed that, for my cliffhanger, I had Luke go over an actual cliff. I'm so literal!


	31. Raw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mom, who is my muse through this story and helps with every moment of writer's block with some stroke of brilliance, thinks you should listen to the song Unsteady by X Ambassadors while reading this chapter. There are a few lyrics that don't work (let's pretend they don't address their parents?) but the overall feeling matches.

“Spencer, it’s okay,” Luke tries to soothe, but the sobs just shake Spencer’s body harder. He’s anguished, mourning a death that didn’t happen, and Luke doesn’t know how to fix that. He strokes his hands down Spencer’s back, curls fingers into his hair, kisses his forehead, but nothing helps. Spencer heaves in his breaths, cries them out, and clings like he doesn’t trust Luke not to leave again.

Luke hears someone enter the file room behind him, but he doesn’t take his focus from Spencer. Their shoes are loud as they step in, then quickly turn around and close the door. He sends a silent thanks for the courtesy and hopes his body hid Spencer’s tears.

Spencer coughs, chokes on a sob. Luke grunts at the effort it takes his weakened arms to lift Spencer higher and holds his chest up, freeing his airway. He whispers into his hair, “Just breathe. It’ll be okay. Just breathe.” Spencer’s breath hitches, hiccups, sputters out with misery. Luke keeps whispering, “Just breathe.”

Spencer’s cries become quiet, silent tears sliding over devastated features. Luke wipes them away with his thumbs, holding Spencer’s face to try and capture its distant gaze. “Can you look at me, Spencer? Can you see me?” Spencer doesn’t respond, just trembles. 

Luke leans forward, pressing his lips to Spencer’s, and he can taste the sadness there. He doesn’t pull away, he needs to reach Spencer, so he kisses him. His mouth moves with love and hope-filled promises until he feels Spencer’s lips move in kind. He pulls back, and Spencer’s eyes are focused on him, and he sighs in immense relief, “Hey, there.”

“Luke?”

“I’m here,” he assures. “I’m here. I’m with you.”

“He… He said…” Spencer can’t bring himself to finish, but the words ‘died bloody’ scream in his mind.

“He lied.” Luke strokes his hand through Spencer’s hair again, keeping him with him. “He lied. I’m okay.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, confused, and he stutters out, “W- Wh- Wha?”

“We were in an accident, but everyone is fine, and we had to hike back, and it took a long time, but I’m here now.” It’s the significantly abridged version, but he’s not going to put more dark images in Spencer’s mind while he’s still reeling. “I’m here and everything is okay.”

Spencer shakes his head and his face crumples, “I don’t understand…” 

Luke grasps both of Spencer’s wrists, brings his hands to cup his own face so Spencer can  _ feel _ him. “Just know I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you.”

Eyes squeezed shut, Spencer whimpers out,  _ “Luke.” _

The door opens again, someone entering the file room with confidence. Luke doesn’t know who it is, so he just tucks Spencer’s face protectively against his chest, hiding his grief from prying eyes. The intruder pauses a few feet away, then closes the distance and crouches down in front of them, and Luke can finally see it’s JJ.

She’s concerned, as anyone would be watching someone they love fall apart, and there are tears clinging to her lashes, but when she turns to Luke she smiles,  _ “ _ I’m  _ really _ glad you’re okay.”

Luke nods, “Thanks.” They’re keeping their voices low in deference to Spencer, though just why that should be helpful to him they aren’t sure.

Her eyes flash again to Spencer, but she knows it’s best to address Luke right now, “I’m taking you home.”

Luke leans into Spencer, combing fingers through his hair to get his attention, “You hear that? Our limo awaits.”

Spencer nods against Luke’s shirt. It’s a relief to Luke that he’s paying attention, not lost again in his mind.

“Can you help me up?”

Spencer leaps to his feet, knees bent and arms extended, and he’s stronger than he looks. Luke is mostly dead weight, but Spencer gets him standing, keeping an arm around his back to keep him up, just like Luke did for Woody. Luke leans heavily on him, but Spencer can take it.

They follow JJ down a corridor and out the back door. The SUV is still running, and she jumps behind the steering wheel. Spencer opens the rear door and Luke breaks away, able to hold himself up against the seats. He skips the middle row, opting for the far back to give themselves privacy during what is still a horribly emotional moment. Spencer closes the door and sits pressed up against Luke, keeping him up, and keeping him present in his mind.

Luke brushes his knuckles across Spencer’s cheek and finds it dry, the tears no longer falling. In a low voice he asks, “Are you okay?”

Spencer presses his face into Luke’s neck. He’s silent, still. Then, in answer, he finally shakes his head.

Luke rests his cheek in Spencer’s hair, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Spencer’s voice is strained.

“We’re gonna get through this. Together. I promise.”

Spencer sniffles, whimpers, a victim of his own emotions. Tears begin to flow again, and with a hitching breath he sobs. Luke grips Spencer’s hand firmly in his own, his other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. 

JJ’s phone rings over the car speakers and she answers it with a button on the steering wheel, “Hey, Emily, I’m taking them home.”

Prentiss’ voice fills the SUV, “That’s good. How are they doing?”

“In need of a good night’s sleep, just like the rest of us,” JJ responds diplomatically.

“You’re telling me,” Prentiss grouses. “I’m ordering a half day for you all tomorrow. I don’t want to see any of your faces before noon.”

There’s a smile in JJ’s voice, “You got it.”

“So, really, how are they?” Prentiss has lowered her voice, but it’s still coming through every speaker.

JJ bites her lip to keep from laughing, “Uh, they can still hear you…”

Luke is too far for the car’s microphone to pick up his voice, but JJ can hear him. “Tell her we’re gonna be okay.” He turns back to Spencer, whispering it again into his hair, his prediction and his promise, “We’re gonna be okay.”

JJ double-parks by the entrance to Luke’s building to give him the shortest walk possible. She hops out, rounds the car, and opens the door for them.

Spencer hasn’t moved yet, hasn’t extracted himself from Luke’s side, but JJ is patient. 

Voice just above a whisper, Luke prompts, “Let’s go home.”

Nodding, Spencer lifts himself up and out, landing on the asphalt and leaning into the vehicle in case Luke needs help. He holds both arms out, ready to catch. Luke stumbles toward him, feeling better with rest but still suffering weakened muscles, and when he drops from the SUV he lands against Spencer’s chest. Spencer doesn’t falter, just wraps him in his arms.

JJ gives both their shoulders a squeeze.

Spencer sends her a watery smile, “Thank you, JJ, for never giving up.”

“Of course!” Quitting her search for Luke never crossed her mind. “If you need anything,  _ anything, _ just call.” 

“Thank you. Love you,” Spencer holds a lot of Luke’s weight as they make their way inside.

Leaning on both the banister and Spencer’s arm up the stairs, Luke is reminded of a time only a couple months ago, when the roles were reversed, and Spencer was the one who needed help. Spencer was the one who could have died. 

Luke sees his front door and it’s a shining beacon. He’s almost home, almost done. Spencer gets him there. He twists his key in the lock, turns the handle, and he’s home. Roxy’s there, tail wagging in celebratory greeting. 

“Hey, Rox!” Luke leans forward in Spencer’s arms to scratch his beloved pooch’s happy face. “I’m happy to see you, too!”

Spencer’s voice is distant and sad, “I was trying to figure out how I’d tell her...that her favorite person is gone…”

Luke rises back to Spencer, cupping his cheek, “I’m not gone.”

Leaning into the touch, Spencer closes his eyes, “I understand intellectually that you aren’t dead, and I’m  _ so grateful _ for that, I am. But for six hours and twenty-three minutes, I existed in a reality in which you  _ were. _ And I can’t… It’s…” He gasps and his eyes open, suddenly serious, “You’re exhausted. You’re likely dehydrated and malnourished, not to mention you’re at risk for hypothermia. You need dry clothes. We should get you in a warm bath, but I’ll need to monitor the temperature to assure-” He’s starting to ramble, to panic.

Luke interrupts with a simple plan of action, “I’m starving.”

“Right,” Spencer nods. He guides Luke to a seat at the table then speed-walks into the kitchen to warm him a meal. He sets the microwave, then turns to watch Luke over the counter, his face nervous. “Water!” Spencer realizes with a start, and fills him a glass. The microwave dings and Spencer stirs a spoon through the bowl before setting it before Luke.

It’s Spencer’s curry, the very meal Luke imagined to get himself out of that forest. He moans in anticipation, shovels some into his mouth, and it’s too hot but he doesn’t care. It’s delicious. It’s the best food he’ll ever eat. He drains the glass because despite all that water he drank in Giang’s car, he’s still incredibly thirsty, and the curry is still steaming when he finishes the last bite. “So good,” he mumbles, still chewing. It was a generous portion but he’s already thinking about seconds. He knows it will just make him sick, and he really needs to rest. He’ll ask Spencer to make him more for breakfast.

Spencer takes the bowl to the sink, returning immediately and hovering over him, “Would you prefer a bath or a shower?”

Luke thinks for a moment. “I don’t really want to sit in this,” he indicates the grime coating his entire body.

“Shower.” Spencer lifts him to his feet and half-carries him to the bathroom, depositing him on the toilet lid. He takes Luke’s dirty boot and rests it on his thigh to untie the laces. He’s assuredly got a nice big footprint staining his suit pants but that doesn’t even register when he removes the shoe and finds Luke’s sock bloody. He flashes a worried look up at Luke’s face before gingerly sliding off the sock. His foot is covered in broken blisters, his waterlogged toes dark with blood and dirt. Spencer caresses the top of his foot with a single finger sympathetically and whispers, “Oh, Luke…” He lifts Luke’s other foot onto his other leg, removing the shoe more carefully now that he’s aware of the injuries. This foot didn’t fare any better. He looks up at Luke, face miserable for the pain he’s seeing, and asks, genuinely unsure, “Can you stand?”

“Been doing so all day,” Luke assures with a half-smile.

Spencer slowly lowers each foot to the linoleum before rising to his knees and unzipping Luke’s coat. There’s no shirt underneath and this confuses Spencer enough that he stops, hands still on the damp material.

Luke looks down, “Oh, yeah, it had to be repurposed as bandages.” Spencer’s eyes widen in horror, scanning Luke for any other injuries he missed, so Luke is quick to explain, “Woody. He got pretty banged up out there.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer says sadly, sincerely. He pulls the coat down Luke’s arms and drops it behind him. Unfastening the belt, Spencer slides it through the loops and sets it somewhere near the coat.

Deft fingers unlatch Luke’s watch, but then they pause as Spencer notices the broken face. He delicately traces along a crack, eyeing it miserably.

“Yeah,” Luke concedes, “it’s a goner.”

Spencer takes the damaged timepiece and places it reverently upon the shelf, hand hovering over it a moment before he turns back. “Are you ready?” He stands, offering his arms to assist Luke in rising, as well.

Luke nods, grabbing both hands and hoisting himself to his damaged feet. He hisses. The new texture awakens the little bleeding hurts. 

Spencer moves his arms around him, hugging him as tightly as he dares, and he repeats in a desperate whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Luke manages to lift his arms to Spencer’s lower back, loosely hugging back. “It’s okay.” He doesn’t know specifically what Spencer is apologizing for, but whatever it is, Luke is safely home and they’re together, so  _ it’s okay. _

Spencer steps back, quickly yanking off his own layers before gently stripping Luke. He lays a steadying hand on Luke’s chest before turning to the faucet, setting the temperature precisely, then guiding Luke under the spray. 

Luke moans. It’s warm and cleansing and soothing to his muscles, but it also stings the cuts on his feet, hands, and face as they are revealed from beneath the grime.

With a worried noise, Spencer tilts Luke’s chin to inspect the small tear on his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s nothing. You should see the other guy.”

Spencer doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile at the joke. He’s too busy feeling sad. He pulls down the shower head to wet Luke’s hair then squirts shampoo in his palm. He massages it in gently, slowly, not wanting to stumble upon another hidden injury. He rinses Luke’s hair clean and sets the nozzle in its home.

“Close your eyes,” Spencer whispers. He wets a washcloth and rubs small, delicate circles over Luke’s face. He swoops the cloth around each ear, then soaps it up to rub the rest of Luke’s body clean. 

“Hold on to me and lift one foot,” Spencer instructs, nozzle in hand. Luke does so, and he’s a little wobbly, but Spencer is there to keep him steady. He rinses away the last remnants of blood from Luke’s raw feet, then shuts off the water, leaving the shower head hanging. 

Spencer steps out and straightens the bathmat to ensure Luke has a good footing, then helps his boyfriend from the tub. He wraps a towel around him to keep him warm and carefully pats his body dry. Water drips from Spencer’s hair, slides down his wet body, but he doesn’t notice. He holds Luke against him and guides him to the bed, sitting him upon it as he gathers sleepwear. He yanks on a pair of cotton pants then kneels before Luke, lifting his feet to slide on loose shorts, picking him up slightly to get them the rest of the way on. He rolls up Luke’s shirt, getting his arms through the holes and pulling the neckhole over his head before letting the shirt fall over him. 

Folding over the covers, Spencer helps Luke slide beneath them. “Stay warm. I’m going to get the first aid kit.” He dashes just outside the room to the storage closet and comes back with Luke’s tackle box of medical supplies.

Alcohol poured on a cotton ball, Spencer lightly dabs it to the scrape on Luke’s cheek, then the one along his jaw, and another above his eyebrow. It stings slightly, but then Spencer soothes it with a gentle application of medicated ointment. Spencer’s features are focused, pinpointed to each cut he’s treating. 

More alcohol on another cotton ball sanitizes Luke’s battered knuckles and a small gash on his thumb. Luke doesn’t remember how he got these specific injuries, can just remember the need to keep moving. Over the ointment, Spencer smoothes a Bandaid around Luke’s thumb and wraps gauze around the knuckles.

Delicate fingers lift Luke’s other hand to expose abrasions along his palm, from catching himself against rough tree bark or jagged rock. Before treatment, Spencer whispers to this hurt, “I’m so sorry,” and then it’s hidden beneath gauze. 

Tough denim jeans protected Luke’s legs from anything worse than minor bruises, so Spencer moves down to his feet, the worst of the pain. Spencer lifts one foot with a hand under Luke’s calf, and Luke actually gasps when Spencer cleanses the back of his heel. It’s hard to believe he was walking with that much damage. The outer layer of skin has been rubbed away, leaving raw oversensitized flesh open to the air, but then it’s safely protected by gauze and it hurts a little less. 

Luke is prepared for the other heel, only winces this time, and then Spencer dabs at the balls of his feet, his toes, then along the outside of each foot where they rubbed against the side of his boots. The gauze feels funny on his feet, like Luke is wearing a pair of very confused socks, but it’s worlds better than it was.

“Aspirin!” Spencer announces like he’s just remembered such a thing exists, and he’s holding up a bottle to inspect the label. It passes muster. “You should take painkillers.”

Luke hums his agreement. Aspirin sounds  _ amazing  _ right now.

“You need water,” Spencer realizes. He sets the pill bottle on the nightstand and leaves to retrieve a glass. 

Luke tries to sit up but he’s just too tired. He pushed himself past the brink today and then just kept going. Spencer is there with a strong arm to lift him up enough to sip, and he finishes the entire glass. Luke smirks, his voice weary but still jovial, “You’re gonna have to carry me to the toilet in the middle of the night if you keep hydrating me like that.”

“Do you need to go now?” Spencer asks seriously.

“No, I’m good.” Luke smiles.

Spencer doesn’t smile back. He pulls the blankets back over Luke, tucking him in and keeping him warm. The bloodied cotton is dropped in the bathroom trash and the first aid kit is returned to its spot in the closet and then Spencer just stands in the doorway looking lost. “Oh, your clothes need to be cleaned.”

Luke weakly lifts an arm to reach for him, “That can wait.”

Spencer shakes his head, already halfway to the pile of laundry, “Blood stains set quickly-”

_ “Spencer,” _ something in Luke’s voice gets his boyfriend to stop and look at him. “I don’t care about the socks. Please come here?”

Spencer rushes to his side, expression worried.

Luke gets his hand around Spencer’s wrist, “I’m exhausted, and I had a really hard day, and I just want to feel your arms around me. Okay?”

Quickly complying, Spencer shoves himself into the bed, then gently pulls Luke to his chest and rubs his back.

Luke lets out a long sigh, feeling most of his remaining energy slip away with it. This is exactly what he needs. He has to say one last thing, though, before he succumbs to blissful sleep, “I thought about you, when I was out there, how much I love you and wanted to get back to you. It gave me the strength to get back.”

Spencer is quiet for long enough that Luke thinks he didn’t hear him, but then there’s a soft sob in Luke’s hair and Spencer’s anguished whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Luke cuddles in closer, trying to soothe with just the press of his body, “Why are you sorry?”

His words are soaked in tears, “I couldn’t save you. You would have saved me, but I just let him kill you. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“He didn’t kill me, Spencer. I’m right here.”

“But I didn’t know that when I was failing you. He was hurting you and I just froze. You needed me and I wasn’t there.”

“Spencer, you gave me a reason to fight. That’s all I needed. I battled an entire forest because that meant coming home to you.”

Spencer curls around him tighter, burying himself in Luke, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Luke wants to say more, wants to help Spencer heal like Spencer gauzed his wounds, but for the first time today his body betrays him and he fades into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been amazed by how many of you take the time to reach out and comment on this story. It is such a gift! Thank you so much.


	32. SHUbox

Luke awakens delightfully rested and monstrously sore. It’s bright out, well past the time he normally awakens, but he was exhausted, and he didn’t set his alarm because his alarm is his phone and his phone is somewhere along the Pamunkey River. 

Spencer is facing away from him, curled up tight on the edge of the mattress. He does this sometimes when he sleeps in, his unconscious form following a sunbeam across the comforter like a cat on his afternoon nap.

Luke scoots toward him, his muscles complaining that this is too soon to bother them, but he’s not done basking in his love’s hold just yet. He drops a kiss to Spencer’s shoulder then looks down at his face. Spencer is awake. He’s clutching himself in an almost painfully tight hug, eyes wide and distant as tears drip onto his pillow.

“Spencer?” Luke watches Spencer blink back to himself. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He can guess, remembers yesterday and knows how much awful was packed into it, but he wants to get Spencer speaking, get him opening up.

Spencer turns over, mouth attempting a smile as he brushes his knuckles over Luke’s cheek, “I’m okay.” It isn’t immensely convincing.

“You’re crying,” Luke tells him, because maybe he doesn’t know.

“I’ll be okay.” Spencer presses his face into Luke’s chest, then pulls away quickly. “You need more Aspirin.”

“No, I’m fine,” Luke argues, not ready to let him go.

“Soreness from muscle strain increases the second day.” Spencer isn’t trying to get up anymore, but he hasn’t settled back in, either.

“It’s fine if I don’t move, and I don’t plan on moving for a while.” He keeps his grip, waiting, and finally, _finally_ , Spencer relaxes against him. He’s warm and his skin is soft and this is exactly the kind of memory that got Luke out of that Wilderness of Death except it’s better because it’s happening right now. Fingers comb through Luke’s hair and he lets out a blissful sigh. This is exactly what he needs. He soaks in their lazy morning cuddle. 

Something rather important occurs to him. “Where’s Roxy?” That dog never lets him sleep in this late without at least one trip to her favorite tree.

“Janie took her.”

This is surprising. She usually waits for his text, and he didn’t send a text, because his phone definitely belongs to a fish now. “Janie was here?”

“I texted her. I knew Roxy would need out and you were sleeping so peacefully, and I couldn’t… leave you.”

Spencer’s fingers have stilled in his hair, and Luke presses up into them to get them going again. “Thank you for thinking of her.”

Spencer’s stomach growls and Luke remembers that when he ate last night, Spencer didn’t. “Breakfast time.”

“You’re hungry?” 

“We both are.”

“Oh. What would you like?”

“Curry,” Luke answers immediately. “Your curry was one of the many things about you that kept me going yesterday, so I’m going to eat that until I’m sick of it, which will be never.” 

Spencer nods obediently, climbing out of bed and heading for the kitchen. Luke frowns after him, worried that Spencer seemed not to hear the compliment part of his comment, just the request. There’s rummaging in the kitchen and the beeping of the microwave, and then Spencer is back with two bowls. Luke can already smell it and he’s practically drooling.

Spencer sets a bowl on the bed between Luke’s legs, spoon sticking out enticingly, and leaves the other on the nightstand before walking out of the room again. Luke only takes one bite while he waits for him, which is a truly magnanimous gesture. Spencer has a full glass of water when he returns this time, holding it out to Luke. Luke drinks it down but then he hears the shake of the pill bottle being lifted and he knows to save at least a little water.

Two pills are placed in Luke’s palm. “If you take Aspirin now, it should take effect before we have to leave for work.”

Luke can’t argue with that logic, throwing back the pills and washing them down. As soon as Spencer sits, Luke digs back in to his breakfast.

Spencer barely touches his food before he clears their bowls. He comes back with the first aid kit to re-dress Luke’s wounded feet. With the gauze unraveled, cool air stings against the abrasions, but they don’t hurt nearly as much as they did yesterday. Scabs have formed over broken skin and the sensitive new flesh is less pink. He’s healing. The alcohol is less painful and the ointment feels more soothing. His heels and toes are wrapped like mummies again, protecting him from his evil socks and shoes that plan to yank and scrape at his hurts all day. _Devious footwear, you’re no match for BANDAGES!_ The thought plays in Luke’s mind like an old Saturday Morning Cartoon, and he chuckles, wanting to share the silly joke with Spencer, but Spencer isn’t responding to humor right now. He is, however, responding to touch. Luke wraps his fingers around Spencer’s wrist, sending him a happy smile.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks with too much concern.

“I’m fine.” He stresses the next bit, “You’re doing a really good job.”

Spencer nods slightly at that, looking down at Luke’s bandages, “Are you going to need anything else before we get ready for work?”

“A hand. I’m going to be pretty weak on my feet today.”

Spencer rises, holding out his arms and offering his entire body in support. He gets him up, keeping an arm around Luke’s waist as they brush their teeth. Luke tames his hair with a comb and gel while Spencer just sort of runs his fingers through his until the curls are evenly distributed. 

Luke locks eyes with Spencer’s reflection and sends a smug grin, “Look at those gorgeous mugs.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shoot into his bangs, “Coffee! I forgot to make coffee.”

“Well, you’ve been a bit busy literally holding me up,” Luke soothes. “But I’m good to stand on my own now, if you want to brew a pot.”

Spencer turns to him, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

He lets go slowly, ready to catch if Luke starts to topple, but Luke really is well enough to hold his weight. He just won’t be carrying another 200 pound deputy anytime soon. “Coffee,” Spencer mumbles to himself as he leaves the bathroom, “I’ll make coffee.”

Luke picks an outfit and lets himself sit on the bed again to put it on. He gets socks over the gauze and then eyes the row of shoes in his closet warily. Those will be the _last_ things he puts on. He hoists himself painfully back up and hobbles over to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer to reveal a modest collection of watches. It began when his grandfather gifted him his thirty year old Rolex, inspiring a fondness for quality timepieces that can stand the test of time. His family knows this, of course, which is why his mother got him a fancy tech-filled wrist gadget for Christmas last year, which he shall now wear for the foreseeable future. 

Spencer comes back in with two TARDIS mugs and hands one to Luke. He frowns at the bathroom floor, setting his mug on the dresser, “The laundry, I forgot.” He picks up the dusty jeans, underwear, and socks now stiff with dried blood and shoves them into the stacked machines by the tub. He starts up the load, then picks up the grimy coat and hugs it close, “This will need to be dry cleaned.”

“Just toss it in the basket. I have other jackets so we can get to that later.”

Spencer looks reticent to do so, still holding it, but with a blink he walks to the closet and drops the coat with the other Need To Be Washes. He comes back to pick up the boots Luke was wearing, caked in mud and stained within in blood, and gives Luke a questioning look, “What would you like done with these?”

“Throw them in the washer?” Luke’s shoulders aren’t up for a shrug, so he lets his face express it.

“With your clothes?”

“Why not?”

Spencer doesn’t spout any data on that, any facts or intel on laundry etiquette, he just pops open the lid and drops the boots on in. They bang against the drum and will probably make the clothing even dirtier, but Luke doesn’t care. 

The broken watch is still on the bathroom shelf and Luke has it hovering over the trash but his hand refuses to let go. He loves this watch. It’s not at fault for being broken. Luke sets it back in its home at the front of the dresser drawer, hoping maybe he’ll be able to fix it.

They leave for work half an hour before they’re supposed to be there, taking a cab to give Luke’s poor feet a break, and they arrive before the rest of the team. That is, before all of them except Prentiss, who doesn’t get to enjoy the half day off like her team because being the boss has its drawbacks. She watches them walk in together, gives them a quick appraisal, and before they’ve even reached their desks she greets, “Reid, Alvez, my office, please?” She steps inside, sure they’ll follow.

An uncomfortable look passes between Spencer and Luke because this can’t be good.

“Think we’ll get detention?” Luke quips.

Spencer doesn’t answer, just leads the way up the catwalk. 

“Close the door?” Prentiss requests as they join her, and when that’s accomplished she points to the two chairs across her desk. “Please sit.” Luke looks guardedly curious and Spencer won’t meet her eyes. “You can probably guess why I asked you in here.”

Neither does.

Prentiss sighs, staring at Spencer until he finally meets her gaze. “Reid, you should have told me.” Spencer’s face is blank, not betraying a single thought. She continues, “Do you have any idea how badly I just want to be happy for you right now? I’ve known you for a decade, you’re my friend, but if you blindside me I can’t protect you from the brass and I can’t prevent what happened in Isleton.”

Spencer’s nose twitches, “I’m not sure what you-”

“Reid, you threw a coffee mug in front of a sheriff.”

Luke’s brows shoot up at this very new information. Spencer’s expression just hardens, “And when you were missing I threw a book at a wall, which we all know I’m far more fond of.”

“Spencer,” Prentiss uses a warning tone.

Spencer snaps back, “Emily,” but at her glare he backs down. “I’m sorry.”

Prentiss relaxes back into her seat. “The rest of the team doesn’t have to know. At least, those who don’t already.” She isn’t directly calling JJ out, but she has her suspicions. “I don’t know how long this has been going on, or how you’ve kept it under wraps surrounded by profilers, but I’d like to keep this in-house for now. I don’t want to give those upstairs any reason to interfere with our team. Got it?”

Both men nod silently.

“Guys,” Prentiss pushes her hair back from her face, “I really am happy for you. Congratulations. I’m not going to lecture you on team dynamics and professionalism because you’re both adults who make a living understanding human behavior, but this will mean things have to change. I haven’t decided specifically how yet, because frankly I didn’t see this coming, but I will let you know.”

They nod again.

“In other news, I thought you’d both like to know that the Isleton Sheriff’s Department has received a full confession from Benji Roscoe, including the location of the third body, and details about how he tampered with the brakes on Woody’s department-issued vehicle. Also, Woody is doing well. He says, Luke, that you saved his life and as soon as he’s out of the hospital he’ll be hand-delivering a pot roast to this office.”

Luke smiles at this, while a troubled look ghosts over Spencer’s face. Prentiss analyzes that a moment before making a decision, “Reid, I’d like to speak with Alvez alone for a minute.”

Worry flashes in his eyes as he looks at Luke, but he quickly swallows it down. He rises, looking between Prentiss and Luke a few times before going down to his desk. Luke watches him leave, stares at him through the office window until Prentiss clears her throat.

She looks at him with an expression of warm caring, “How are you doing? I can’t imagine yesterday was easy.”

Luke shakes his head, “I’m tired, sore. My feet are basically half blister.” At Prentiss’ wince, Luke shrugs and smiles, “It’s okay. I’ve got a great boyfriend who’s taking care of me.”

“Boyfriend, huh?”

Luke feels a huge grin take over his face, “Yup.”

Prentiss smiles at that, nodding in approval. Her eyes dart out to Spencer sitting in the bullpen and her tone is serious again, “How is he?”

“About how you or I would be if we spent the day thinking someone we love is dead,” Luke frowns. They’re both watching Spencer now as he taps a pen nervously against his row of books. “But he’ll be okay. He also has a pretty great boyfriend who’s taking care of him.” 

Luke rises gingerly. Walking isn’t nearly as bad as getting up. He goes straight to Spencer’s desk and since they’re the only two people in the bullpen he feels safe laying a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s back. Spencer turns to face him and it looks like he’s holding himself together with scotch tape and the power of will.

“You want to go somewhere and talk a minute? It’s like forty degrees out so I’m sure the roof is free.” Luke smirks at his joke, but it doesn’t land.

Spencer shakes his head, “I’ll be okay.” He frowns, looking down at Luke’s shoes, “And you should sit.”

Luke lets his hand slide along Spencer’s arm, prolonging their connection, and goes to his desk to sit.

Rossi is the next of the team to arrive, making a beeline for Luke’s desk, “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here today, Mr. Heroics.”

“How else would I get praised?” Luke jokes back, earning him a firm shoulder pat that might have hurt were Aspirin not flowing through his veins.

“How are you doing, Kid? Must have been a hell of a hike.”

“We took the scenic route. And we figured out that the river is much prettier from the outside.”

Rossi just laughs and shakes his head, accepting humor as an answer.

“Oh! Oh!” Garcia tries to run from the elevator in shoes too tall for the task. “You’re here!” She throws her arms around Luke, immensely affectionate for how intentionally distant she’s been toward him since he started working here. “How dare you let us think you were dead! That was horrible! But thank you very much for coming back to us. I made you cookies.” She sets a paper box on his desk and opens it to reveal snickerdoodles. “I mean, I made the team cookies because I thought you wouldn’t be in today after the whole almost dying thing and then we were going to need the comfort of sugar to process all those awful messages that said you were, you know, dead, but you’re here, so the cookies are for you.”

She finally takes a breath, so Luke tells her, “Thank you. These look great; I’ll be sure to share them with everybody.” As an example, Rossi quickly snags a treat before heading up to his office.

“They do look great,” Garcia preens, proud of her baked beauties. “Okay,” she bends for one more quick hug, “never scare me again. That is all.” With that, she dashes off to her Tech Dungeon as quickly as one can in three inch heels.

“Hey, Hero Of The Hour!” Matt greets, extending his hand to Luke for an enthusiastic shake. “Man, is it good to see you in the flesh.”

“Thanks, Man,” Luke smiles, “Good to be in the flesh.”

Tara walks up to Luke with her finger pointed accusingly and her voice stern, “I am implanting a tracking device on you.”

“You won’t hear me arguing,” Luke raises his hands. 

Her face shifts to a smile and she grasps his wrist, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

JJ brings up the rear, arriving at noon on the dot. She plops herself on Luke’s desk, just looking at him for a moment with a small smile. “How are you doing?”

“If I knew coming back from the dead would make you all like me so much, I’d have pulled this a year ago.”

“Back when you were the annoying new guy?” She smirks, “Nah, you had to make us miss you first.”

“Okay,” Luke laughs, admitting defeat in this battle of wits, “okay!”

“Hey,” she lays a hand on his shoulder and locks eyes with him, “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

She heads over to Spencer next, hovering over his seated form, but he doesn’t notice her, doesn’t look up from the folder on his desk, and she decides to give him space.

They spend the day filing reports on the Isleton case. Luke keeps an eye on Spencer, watching shadows darken his features as he shakes the life out of a writing utensil, and wonders which part of yesterday he’s documenting. Is it when he first heard Luke died? Is it after hours of suffering that loss? 

Garcia emerges from her office, the click of her heels alerting everyone as she makes her way into the conference room. They wait, bated breaths, to see if they are summoned to another case. 

Erratic tapping redirects Luke’s attention back to Spencer, whose hands are nervously smacking his thighs. He takes in a shaky breath and he looks scared, pale, his worried eyes glued to that conference room. Luke rises, ignoring the twinge in his wounded feet. He grabs a file for a mediocre guise and attempts discretion walking to Spencer’s desk. Leaning against the row of drawers, Luke opens the file as if he’s about to discuss it and then whispers, low enough for only Spencer to hear him, “It’s okay.”

Garcia emerges, external harddrive in hand, and hurries back to her office. There’s a collective sigh of relief; they haven’t been assigned a case.

Spencer, however, still looks haunted, eyes distant and breath a shallow pant. Luke scoots in a little closer, trying to hide him with his body as Spencer slowly regains control of himself. “So…” Luke grasps for something to talk about to legitimize his visit in case anyone is listening, “Deputy Chief Greyson, was that with an A or an E?”

Closing his eyes to pull up a mental image, Spencer reads the name badge clipped to Woody’s shirt, “E.” 

“Crap, now I have to go rewrite my whole report,” Luke smiles.

Spencer nods absently, not really listening.

Luke tries another tactic, “You need some coffee?”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Luke pushes off from the desk, blisters reminding him to take it easy on his feet, and he leads Spencer to the counter with the mugs and percolator. They’re far enough away from the team that if they keep their voices low no one will hear them. “It’s 3:30. We’ve got an hour and a half before we can bust on out of here. Are you gonna be okay?”

“If we don’t get a case,” Spencer argues, not responding to the question. “We can only bust out if we don’t get a case.”

Luke nods, “Yeah, if we don’t get a case.”

Turning on his heels, Spencer goes back to his desk, leaving his mug sitting half-filled with room temp brew on the counter. Luke empties it out and fills it with the relatively fresh stuff, adding in three sugar packets, and walking it over to Spencer’s desk. Spencer looks up, surprised, confused, then understanding, “Oh, thank you.”

Luke skips his own refill, instead walking softly back to his seat and letting out a long sigh when he gets his weight off his feet. He still has that file in his hand, and he opens it up for reference to get back to typing. 

They make it to 5:00 without a new case. Their reports are submitted and they’re free. Luke is getting up to grab Spencer and go when Garcia comes rushing toward him, and for a second he worries she has a case only for him, before letting that ridiculous thought go. She is in charge of so many things, they need to stop viewing her as the Harbinger of Serial Killers. He watches her attempt at haste in those stilettos, amused, and she finally reaches him to shove a cell phone in his hand, “Try not to let this one drown.”

“Right.” He really just spent a whole day without a phone and barely noticed. “I will do my best.” The phone is tucked away in his pocket, and Garcia is still looking at him. “Is there something else?”

“Did you eat any of the cookies I made you?”

“I ate three!” He feels like he has to defend himself here, but he absolutely ate three cookies. “They were delicious. I think there’s only one left.”

“Oh good!” She reaches in, plucks out the last cookie, and goes back to her office. Luke smiles after her. That woman is a legend all her own.

Spencer is hunched over, fingers tangled in his hair, and he’s staring at his empty desk like it’s actively communicating with him. The team has gone home, leaving the bullpen void of onlookers, so Luke lays a gentle hand over Spencer’s to try and bring him around.

Spencer gasps, eyes wide in fear but then he sees Luke and is able to calm down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Where is everyone?”

“It’s time to go home.”

“Of course.” Spencer rises, grabbing his coat and sliding his satchel over his shoulder. He follows Luke to the elevator and they descend to the parking garage. Luke’s Subaru is waiting for them in the spot he claimed Wednesday morning, a lifetime ago, and he’s so grateful to see it. Those days of walking home are gone for at least the next few days, while these blisters heal.

It’s a short drive home, during which Spencer doesn’t speak. He just stares out the window, watching the buildings speed by. 

Roxy greets them with her Take Me Outside noises, and Luke grabs her leash, “You want to walk her with me, Spencer?”

Spencer takes a step back, hugs himself tight, and shakes his head. “Could… Could you hurry back, though?”

“Yeah,” Luke responds gently. “Just a short walk.” His feet are making the same demand on him.

He takes Roxy down to her favorite tree, angering a blister or three, and convinces her to climb back up with his most excited voice. As soon as she’s inside, Roxy gives a concerned sniff and rushes straight for the storage closet. She’s never shown this spot any interest before, which makes sense, since all that’s in there is some camping gear, the first aid kit, and spare paper products. 

Luke follows her over, “What’s wrong, Rox?”

She whines at the door, not letting up. 

“There’s nothing in there,” Luke opens up to let her see and get over her curiosity.

He’s wrong about it being vacant. Spencer is sitting in the small space, back against the far wall, face to his knees. It startles Luke and he takes a step back, but he recovers quickly. “Spencer?”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says into his knees, then lifts his face and it’s streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, I just needed a box.”

Luke doesn’t really have any storage boxes, but he starts rifling through his belongings anyway, “What kind of box?”

Spencer shakes his head, clutching his legs close, “No, uh… a SHU.”

“A shoebox? I don’t really save those…” Luke turns back to Spencer and he can tell he’s misunderstanding. Spencer has a hand shoved frustratedly in his hair and he’s clearly not looking for anything, shoebox or otherwise. Luke sits back on his haunches and watches, waiting for this to make sense.

Spencer raises distressed eyes to meet Luke’s, “When I was in prison? I was never safe. I was scared all the time and I thought I was going to die like my friend did but when I got myself placed in the Solitary Housing Unit, I could finally breathe. I just… I just needed to catch my breath.”

“Okay,” Luke nods because for something that initially confused him it makes plenty of sense. “So, Solitary Housing, does that mean you need to be alone?”

“No,” his head shakes vigorously. “No, I’m not trying to get away from you. I just, I need… I...”

Luke can see his boyfriend struggling, and he’s not going to push himself on him yet. “Well, actually, I was thinking it looks like someone here is very interested in joining you,” Luke pats his worried dog, who’s staring into the closet with hope and impatience.

“Roxy?”

The sound of her name is invitation enough and she launches herself through the doorway, pressing her furry body against Spencer. He drops his legs to make a lap for her to rest her head on and slides his hands through her fur.

“You just let me know if you need anything,” Luke leaves the door open just a crack so their voices can carry, and goes out to his couch. It’s good that Spencer doesn’t want to push him away, it is, but he’s also hiding in a closet because he can’t breathe outside of it, so this is mostly bad. It’s also entirely out of Luke’s depth. He loves Spencer, and he will be here for him with whatever he needs, but he might not be enough to help Spencer through this.

Right now, though, Spencer is coping, and that’s what Luke needs to focus on. Better yet, Luke needs a distraction from all the negativity bouncing around his brain. He slides out his phone and presses Home but nothing happens. He’s annoyed that the battery died when he remembers this is a brand new phone, not yet turned on. He powers it up and waits for the thing to get its bearings. It chirps away, finding his Wifi from the knowledge of its ancestors, including the Drowned Phone, and then it starts announcing text messages. So many text messages. He just lets it complete its dinging before trying to open any of them.

 _Emily Prentiss → BAU Team_ _  
_ _Luke, possible connection with church. Unsub brings up sin. Look into it?_

 _Emily Prentiss → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Have you been to church yet?_

 _Jennifer Jureau → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _I’m not giving up on you, Luke. None of us are. We will find you, I promise._

Luke takes in a shaky breath. These are text messages from Isleton, when everyone thought he was captured and killed, and there are 23 from Spencer. He has to take a moment before he opens the chain. These are going to be the last messages Spencer thought he’d ever send him. He swallows hard at the thought, then opens them up.

 _Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez_ _  
_ _Prentiss is trying to reach you. She’s on a tirade._

 _We’re coming. Hold on._

_I’m sorry. I love you so much! **_

_Please don’t be dead. Please. Please just come back to me._

_I can’t do any of this without you. I need you. Don’t leave me._

_You can’t be gone. You have to walk through those doors right now or I don’t know what I’m going to do._

_Why would you leave me like this? Why would you do this? I can’t take it._

_Who do I pray to? I’ll do anything. I’ll make the trade, me for you, just tell me how._

_I just need you to hold me one more time. I’m falling apart and all I can think is how much better you’d make me feel. I love being held by you. I love your touch. I love you so much._

_I will take care of Roxy. I’ll get her that house with a yard we promised her and I’ll keep all of your clothes so she can remember your scent. And I’ll never buy her anything pink. And I’ll tell her every day how much you love her because I know how important she is to you._

_I can’t do this. I need more time. There wasn’t enough time._

_I hope there wasn’t too much pain. I know what he does and I know what he said, but I hope it was quick. I’m so sorry, but I hope it was quick._

_Please be there._

_Garcia found him. She traced the messages to Benji Roscoe and they brought him in. Rossi will break him. He won’t get away with what he did. We’ll find you. I won’t leave until we find you._

_JJ thinks he’s lying about killing you. I’m trying to hold on to that. Please be alive. We can get him to give up your location. Just please be alive._

_I want to see the Eiffel Tower with you. I want to kiss you on top of the Empire State Building. I want to hold you as the sun sets over the Grand Canyon. I want to grow old with you. I want us to look at each other when we’re old and gray and still tell each other every day how much we love each other, because I will always love you._

_You’re never going to read these texts. I can’t stop sending them. They’re all I have._

_I can’t stop thinking about what happened to you. I can’t stop seeing it. It’s horrible._

_I hope your grandma was there. I know how much you love her. I don’t remember much from when I died, but I hope you’re happy there. I hope you wait for me again._

_If you were alive you’d have found a way to tell me. You wouldn’t let me suffer like this._

_I hope you know how grateful I am for the time we had. It wasn’t enough, but I wouldn’t give it up. It’s the happiest I’ve ever been. I’m trying to hold on to that._

_We were supposed to have so much more time._

_Please text me back. I really need you to text me back. Just one last text. I’ve given up a lifetime with you, can’t I get one more text? Just tell me you love me?_

Luke has to blink back tears to read the last few messages. This is what Spencer went through. Through all Luke’s arduous journey, this is what was going through Spencer’s mind. The sob that rips from his throat is a shock. He’s so deep in these awful thoughts that his own emotions surprise him, crush him with their overwhelming weight. He knew Spencer thought he was dead, but this? This makes that too real.

He needs Spencer, needs to comfort him for all this pain. He needs to hold him like Spencer begged for, tell him he loves him, be there. He pulls open the closet door, collapsing onto the strip of hardwood between Spencer and a wall. “Spencer,” he gets out through his tears, “can I please hold you?”

Eyes wide in shock at the devastation on Luke’s face, it takes a moment before Spencer nods, and as soon as he does Luke pulls him into his chest. He shoves his damp face into Spencer’s curls and sobs. “I love you so much! I love you _so much!”_

“I love you, too,” Spencer says back, his own eyes now stinging with emotion.

Luke clutches him tight, needing to _feel_ him, “I read them. Your text messages.”

“Oh,” is all Spencer can think to say. The only sound in the closet is their hitching breaths and soft sobs as they cling to each other. Roxy whines at their misery and they each automatically reach out a hand to give her a comforting pat. Spencer swallows, “I didn’t think you’d get those.”

“You thought I’d died.”

Spencer nods into his chest, sniffling.

“That must have been so horrible.”

“It _was!”_

“I’m so sorry. I love you so much and I’m not gone,” Luke tries to remember all the awful thoughts that plagued Spencer’s mind, wants to heal them with soothing words. “I didn’t leave you, I came back to you because I love you. We’re gonna have so much more time together.”

“I want that.”

“I want that, too. I want that with you. I’m gonna lose all my hair and get really wrinkly and you’re still gonna have to tell me every day that I’m beautiful.”

Spencer pulls back enough to look Luke in the eye, and his hand comes up to hold Luke’s cheek. His voice is tight with tears when he says, so sincerely, “You’re really beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling as his heart swells, “just like that.”

Spencer leans in slowly, pressing his lips to Luke’s in a soft kiss. Luke cradles the back of his head and the kiss tastes like tears but it _feels_ like love. When Spencer breaks away he rests his forehead against Luke’s, his breaths soft puffs against Luke’s cheek. Then Spencer pulls back, breath catching in his throat, “We need to re-dress your wounds. You’re still wearing your shoes, you must be in so much pain.”

“It’s not that bad, really.” Luke undoes his laces as Spencer reaches for the first aid kit, conveniently stored in their new hangout. Dragging his boot over the back of his heel is the worst part, but once the shoes are off he feels much better. 

Spencer slides off his socks and unwraps the gauze, hissing in sympathy, “I let you take Roxy for a walk like this. I should have done that for you, I’m so sorry.”

“I think you were having a panic attack,” Luke says honestly.

“I was,” Spencer confirms. He dabs alcohol to the scabs, keeping them clean from bacteria, before smearing on more ointment. They get re-wrapped, and Spencer wads the spent medical supplies. 

Luke hoists himself up, his feet quieting their complaints, feeling better with each time Spencer cares for them. “Time to leave the SHUbox?”

Spencer thinks a moment, sees the garbage in his hand, and nods. They go straight for the kitchen, Spencer tossing away the used cotton and Luke shoving his head into the fridge.

“I’m starving,” Luke announces as he pulls out that generous tupperware of curry from its shelf. Beside it, he sees Spencer’s partially-eaten bowlful, spoon still resting within, and brings that out as well. “Curry for dinner?”

Spencer is washing his hands, scrubbing compulsively, when he turns back, “You’re not sick of that yet?”

“Never!” There isn’t any rice left, but Luke is fine eating this like soup. He gets their meals warmed up and carries both bowls out to their couch, Spencer following.

“I think an episode of Doctor Who is in order. I’d like to watch someone else’s problems for a change.” Luke sets their dishes down on the table, giving each a stir to release some steam. Then he scoots back into the corner of the couch and pats his chest, offering it up as a pillow for some solid television cuddles.

Spencer takes his seat, leaning into him, and as soon as his head meets Luke’s shoulder he melts into him. Spencer’s arm comes around in a half-hug, keeping them close, and he turns his face into the soft material of his shirt. Luke smiles, brushing his fingers through Spencer’s hair and pressing a kiss into his forehead. 

Reaching for the remote is an odd way to trigger the memory, but he’s suddenly thinking about a specific text in that miserable chain of texts. _I don’t remember much from when I died._ It struck Luke when he read it, but everything was striking him at that point and it became a wave in the ocean, but the tide has come back in. Spencer has died before, and Luke didn’t know that. Sometime before they met, Luke almost lost him. His mouth opens to bring it up, but Spencer speaks first. 

“Can we watch an episode where no one dies?”

Luke is grateful for the interruption. Now isn’t the time to bring up a heavy topic, with Spencer so fragile. He stores it in the back of his mind and selects The Empty Child. “That’s a great idea.”

“Yes, this is a good episode.”

“They’re all good episodes.”

As soon as he’s beyond the risk of scalding himself, Luke digs into the curry, seeing Spencer take some bites, as well. It’s still so good. It’s the perfect blend of spices and love and if a food beckons you from the pits of Hell like the songs of the angels, you’re gonna show it the appreciation it deserves.

Luke lets himself get lost in the show as his fingers play in Spencer’s hair and stroke down his back. Halfway through, Spencer gets up. He doesn’t explain why, just walks into the bedroom, and Luke can hear him shut himself in the bathroom. Luke clicks the pause button and waits. The bathroom door opens again, but Spencer doesn’t return. 

Luke gives it a couple minutes before becoming a search party, and finds Spencer pacing in front of the bed. His hair is wild from being shoved back so many times in frustration and his fingers are dancing before his face like he’s trying to sort the invisible files of his mind.

“Spencer?”

Spencer gasps, turns to see Luke in the doorway, but doesn’t stop his pacing.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Spencer taps his head. He’s deep in thought, then, past the point of words.

“I paused the show. Would you like to come back and watch it?”

Nodding seems to shake words loose, but in an order of their own choosing, “In- yeah- a couple minutes?”

“Okay,” Luke tries to send reassurance through a smile. “I’ll be out there.” He gives his boyfriend a final glance, noting how those fingers get right back to dancing, then reclaims his spot on the couch. A few of Spencer’s psychology books are on the coffee table, his version of light reading, and Luke picks one up to help him wait. A couple minutes pass and Spencer doesn’t emerge. Five minutes go by. Ten. Surely Spencer didn’t get lost. 

Luke steps back into his room to find Spencer asleep, laid fully dressed atop the covers. He wore himself out. It’s a chilly evening, so Luke grabs an extra blanket and drapes it over his unconscious form, tucking it in around him. He unties his shoes, sliding them off and leaving them by the bed. Spencer doesn’t stir, out cold. Luke presses a kiss to his forehead, hoping to reach him, “I love you.”

He finds Spencer’s bowl on the table, still barely touched, and returns it to the fridge, hoping Spencer will finish it tomorrow. His own dish joins the small pile forming in the sink and gets a quick rinse. Dishes are a challenge he’s not up to tackling at the moment.

Returning again to the couch, Luke clicks off the TV and stares at the black screen. It feels like he isn’t helping. Spencer needs him and he just doesn’t have the tools to fix this. The reality is painful, aches in his gut and pounds in his chest. An ancient yearning erupts in him and he’s already pressing keys on his phone. 

It rings only once before she answers, “Hello, Luke.”

“Hey, Ma.”

“How are you?” The simple question is colored with so many meanings. _What’s wrong? Should I be worried? How can I make things better?_

“I just needed to hear your voice.” There’s something magical about a mother’s voice, a sound more soothing than any song, our earliest spoken comfort.

“I can hear the sadness in yours, Sweetheart.”

His mother’s right, he’s near tears, but he swallows them back. “I’m having kind of a rough time.”

“Talk to me.”

Luke sighs. He talks with his mother regularly, happily, but the danger of his work is something he shelters her from. She understands, in the abstract, what a soldier does and then what an FBI agent does, but the things he’s seen? The things he’s had to do? He could never stain her with that. “Ma, when… When Dad was in the Army, deployed, how did you… How did you do it?”

“Well, I had you. I had your grandmother, and your aunt and uncle across the street. I had support. And we sent letters to each other. We didn’t have the fancy video calls, or even email back then, but wherever he was, we could write to each other.”

“What about between the letters? How did you know everything was going to be okay?”

“Oh, Sweetheart, I didn’t. There were times the letters were late by almost a week, and that was scary. I would fear the worst.”

Luke tears through his memories, trying to find one of his mother’s worry. “I never…”

“You were a little boy! I wouldn’t let you see that. And the letter always came, and then so did your father." 

“So… Since he was okay, you were okay?”

“Well, I wasn’t scared anymore. But no marriage is perfect, even when you love each other as much as your father and I do. Luke, would you like to tell me what this is about? I don’t think I’m giving you the answers you need.” 

It isn’t fair, demanding his mother solve his problems when he won’t even explain them to her, and that isn’t her job anymore anyway. “Actually, Ma, would you mind talking about you for a while? I think I just need to get out of my own head.”

“You just asked a nana to speak about herself. You know what that means,” she chuckles. “Little Hannah just got promoted from the Guppies to the Seahorses, which means she’s allowed on the lower diving board. You’ve never seen a child happier to throw herself in the deep end! I have to watch the videos through my fingers; she’s just so brave! Sarah got permission from her school librarian to start reading those Harry Potter books. They usually have to wait until fourth grade for that, but she’s just so advanced. And Andy finally broke poor Bethany down enough to get a pet lizard! He’s named it Tyrannosaurus Chomp! His mother is a saint, I tell you what. Analise brought Lucia to the garage to see her daddy work for the first time. She was pointing all the tools out, telling her how things work. She’s an infant Luke, but you know Analise. What are you gonna do?” Rita gabs on, filling Luke’s ears with family and familiarity. 

Luke lies back into the couch, eyes closed, and just listens. 

Rita finally pauses long enough to yawn, then decides to check in. “How are you feeling, Luke?”

“I really needed that. Thank you, Ma.”

“Any time, Sweetheart. You know that. Your father and I love you very much.”

Luke smiles, “Spencer and I love you.”

Rita gives a pleasant hum at that, “Tell Spencer we love him, too. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Ma.” It was a nice conversation. It wasn’t a cure, but it strengthened him, reminded him how much support he has out in the world. He fixes Roxy dinner and takes her out one more time, and then, even though it isn’t technically night yet, he gets ready for bed. If Spencer is in bed, that’s where he’d like to be.

Spencer is exactly how Luke left him, curled on his side in his suit and belt, face hidden in his hand. Luke slides under that extra blanket, reaches for Spencer, and pulls him against his chest, planning to cuddle this man until the sun wakes them. He might not be able to fix this, not yet, but he can at least give Spencer strength, and remind him he is here for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beast! Thank you for sticking with it :-) Your comments have been fueling me through 2020! Thank you all so much!


	33. Pluto

Luke wakes to a terrified scream. He turns, eyes bleary, to see Spencer twisted in the bedding, tears streaming down his face. Reaching out, he whispers his name, "Spencer."

With a cry, Spencer throws himself off the bed, frantically crawling backwards until he hits a wall. He's shaking, eyes open but unseeing.

Luke walks to him slowly, crouched, keeping his hands in the air. He hears his dog whimpering from the doorway and without turning away from Spencer he invites her over, "Come here, Roxy." She comes, but she has a plan of her own, trotting right up to Spencer and licking a smear across his cheek.

Spencer gasps and recoils. He blinks, eyes focusing. "Roxy?"

"Yeah, it's just Roxy," Luke is starting to wonder if he should call her away, give Spencer room to breathe, but Spencer’s hands raise and bury into her fur. "We were worried about you. You had a nightmare."

Spencer nods.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head, adamant that he doesn't.

Luke looks at the clock, sees it's barely 3:00 AM, and sits back on the mattress, "Let's go back to bed, okay?"

"I..." Spencer squints, processing, "I need..."

"What do we need?" Luke includes himself, trying to remind subtly that Spencer isn't alone in whatever this is.

"I have to take a shower." Spencer brushes past Roxy and closes himself in the bathroom.

Luke hears the lock slide into place, keeping him out, and he sighs heavily. He's fighting for balance between showing support and giving space, and it feels like he's losing. "Come here, Roxy," he pats the bed. She hops up, such a good dog, and Luke cuddles himself around her. She turns her head, surprised at his almost aggressive show of affection. "Stay," he begs, needing someone to hold on to. Roxy stays until Luke falls asleep.

The day is bright when Luke next opens his eyes, and he’s alone, the bed cold beside him. The bathroom door is open, that late night shower long over. Luke rises to his feet and winces at the reminder that he’s still healing, but he soldiers on. 

Spencer is passed out on the couch. Half-open books surround him, his mind unable to settle into any of them before he slipped into darkness. Roxy is at his feet, eyes darting nervously between her humans, but she doesn’t leave her post. She has done the calculations and determined Spencer needs her most, and Luke is fine with that. He’s going to make coffee.

The percolator gurgles as he gets to chopping Roxy’s breakfast meats. She’ll need out soon, as it’s unlikely Spencer took her, and he’ll need a shower before they head in. His feet will need to be re-dressed again, and then he’ll have to shove them back into shoes. The day already feels heavy and it’s barely started.

Roxy doesn’t come when her bowl is set on the ground, too focused on guarding Spencer, so Luke brings her bowl to her. She takes a timid bite, then stares at Spencer as she chews.

Luke pours coffee into two mugs and sets them on the bits of coffee table not covered by books, then takes a seat next to Spencer. Spencer is slumped forward, half-leaning on the armrest, and Luke thinks he’ll wake up with a sore back but he’s also seen Spencer hunch over his desk for hours and not complain so maybe his spine is made of pool noodle. 

“Spencer,” Luke brushes back his hair, letting his fingers linger along his cheek. 

“Hmm?” Spencer grimaces, squinting against the light.

“I made coffee.”

He opens his eyes at that, meeting Luke’s for a smile, “Good morning.”

“Good morning. Looks like you were busy.”

Spencer nods, picking up his coffee to bring it to his nose and inhale the intoxicating aroma. “Thank you for this.”

Roxy can sense the shift in the mood and rises up enough to lay her head heavily on Spencer’s knee. She looks up while he looks down and when they lock eyes she sends him a message:  _ Take me to my pee tree. _

“Okay, Roxy,” Spencer puts down his mug and the dog prances to the door. 

“She needs to go out?” Luke starts to get up, but Spencer puts out a hand to stop him.

“I’ve got it.” He looks down at his socked feet, does a little twirl to look around the room, and asks, “Where are my shoes?”

“Foot of the bed.”

“Thank you.” Spencer marches off in pajamas and oxfords to take Roxy for a walk. “I’m going to take her around the neighborhood. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Have fun,” Luke smiles over his mug, watching them leave, a happy dog and her assenting human. Luke fits a shower neatly into their time away, toweling his hair dry when he hears them come down the hall.

Roxy is ecstatic when they come through the door, her tail wagging as she stares at Luke like she could tell him about all the cool things she sniffed. 

Spencer goes straight for the first aid kit, carrying it over to the bed and beckoning Luke over with a glance. “We’re going to need to pick up more gauze.”

“I don’t know,” Luke lies back with his legs out toward Spencer and mentally checks in with his blisters. “We may not need to wrap them after today.”

Spencer frowns at the soles of Luke’s feet, “You’re not seeing what I’m seeing.”

“All right,” Luke sighs. He much prefers his fantasy to Spencer’s reality. “We can get some on our way home tonight.”

Spencer turns away, face pinched, staying silent for a ten count before Luke bumps him with his calf.

“Where’d you go?”

“Twelve percent of all our cases have come in on a Friday.” His voice is nervous but the calculation rolls off like all his facts do, quick and assured.

“Not today, though.” Luke says confidently. Spencer just eyes him in confusion, and Luke shrugs, “I decided we’re getting the weekend off.”

“You decided?”

“Yup. I decided. Now, come on, nurse me.”

Alcohol, ointment, and gauze are applied with precision, and when Spencer helps him to his feet Luke doesn’t even flinch. 

They get ready for work, Spencer’s section of the closet growing with each passing week, a full set of toiletries in Luke’s medicine cabinet. They’re still hunting for that perfect house, but in the meantime, Spencer has nearly moved himself into Luke’s. He’s even managed to fit a few dozen books about the place.

On their way out, Luke grabs himself a protein shake and looks around for something for Spencer. “You want a banana? It’s yellow, the color it’s supposed to be.”

“No thanks, I had coffee,” Spencer calls from the open front door. Luke doesn’t push it.

Spencer is clearly worried on the drive in, eyes staring out his window, hands tapping against his thighs. As soon as Luke parks, he reaches over and grasps Spencer’s hand and tells him, “It’s gonna be okay.” Spencer turns to him and he’s obviously unconvinced, so Luke tries again, “Let’s go out for lunch today. You pick, I’m buying.”

“If we’re called on a case we could be halfway across the country by lunch.”

“We’ll still need to eat. I’ll still buy.”

Spencer nods, accepting the fact more than the gesture, but it’s enough. They ride up to the office together and split off for their desks. There’s no case waiting for their arrival, so Prentiss unloads the consultation files, cases police departments aren’t sure are serial or just want a rough profile for without bringing the full force of the FBI in yet. It piles up quickly with how often they are called on active cases, but it can be divided amongst the team for factory output. Spencer usually tears through these like it’s a race, but he seems to be reading at a human pace today. 

Luke needs coffee, or a distraction from his worries, but they can mean the same thing. He bellies up to the coffee counter and fills the closest mug in the dish drainer. 

“Hey, there,” JJ leans into the counter beside him, empty mug held out for him to fill.

“Hey.” He lacks his typical pep. He knows it, and she hears it.

“How are you?”

His eyes unconsciously dart toward Spencer and it’s answer enough for her.

“You know, the boys have been asking to have their Uncle Spence over for dinner. They miss him. I was thinking about asking him tonight.” She’s offering help. She’s Spencer’s best friend and has been in this work as long as he has and she’s  _ offering help. _

“I think that’s a great idea. You think he’ll need a ride home?”

She ponders that for a second, “Do you like pecan pie?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“We’re having pecan pie for dessert, if you’d like to join.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

JJ smiles, “I’ll have Will text you.” With that, she heads back to her desk, mug steaming in her hand.

Luke lets a long sigh flow from down to his toes. It’s been weighing on him heavily that he hasn’t been able to fix things for Spencer yet. He wants to be the guy Spencer can count on for everything, but if that isn’t possible, he’s grateful JJ can be the friend Spencer needs right now.

Lunch comes and they are fortunately not halfway across the country, so Luke plops himself against Spencer’s desk to whisk him off to the restaurant of his choosing. Before Spencer looks up, JJ is there, leaning on the other side of him, “Lunch time?”

“Yeah,” Luke smiles, happy to pay for her meal, as well. 

JJ pats Spencer’s back with a, “Let’s go,” to get him up and they walk together to the elevator. As soon as the doors slide closed, she turns to Spencer with a warm smile, “You know, the boys miss you.”

“Oh,” he’s touched. “Tell them I miss them, too.”

“They were actually hoping you might be free for dinner tonight. Will is cooking his famous crab gumbo.”

Spencer is intrigued and looks to Luke to gauge his interest.

JJ quickly explains, “Luke will be joining for dessert.”

Understanding dawns, and Luke watches that old but familiar train of emotions travel over Spencer’s face: pleasure, need, shame. He wants to go, knows he needs help, and hates that he  _ needs help. _ Then Spencer swallows it all down and sends JJ a genuine, if small, smile, “Thank you, JJ. I’d really like that.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up, say 5:00? At your desk?” Her eyes dance with humor.

Spencer nods, then amends, “If we don’t get a case.”

With the stern look that comes with motherhood, JJ puts a shushing finger to her lips. She’s learned not to tempt the fates. The elevator doors open and JJ breaks off, “Have a nice lunch, you two.”

Luke’s surprised, “You’re not coming?”

“On your date?” she laughs. “Nah.”

Luke turns to Spencer as they walk toward the Subaru, “What do you say? Want to go on a date?”

“Actually, could we have lunch at your place? See Roxy? There’s enough curry left.”

“Sure. But this still counts as me buying!”

Spencer nods, still not grasping jokes, but Luke isn’t going to let that bother him when there’s a plan in motion that gives him hope.

Roxy is over the moon to see them at this hour tapping her feet in a cute little twirl as four whole hands bless her with pets. And then she has her fill, as Roxy does, and trots off to her bed. Spencer reheats his leftovers from the fridge and scoops out a fresh bowl for Luke, and they settle in close on the couch. The books are still splayed atop the table so they prop their bowls on their legs, their spare hands entwined between them.

Spencer lays his head against Luke’s shoulder, “4% of our cases have come in on a Friday afternoon.”

“So, you’re saying there’s a 96% chance we don’t get a case today.”

“That’s not really-”

“Because that’s basically 100%. I think I’m gonna win.”

By the time Luke is halfway through his meal, Spencer has picked up his spoon three times to stir it around the bowl just to set it back against the edge. Luke presses a kiss to his hair and whispers so the command doesn’t sound harsh, “Eat, Spencer.”

Spencer sits up, leaning over his food and taking in a bite. He chews it slowly, eyes going distant, spoon clinking back against the bowl.

“You know,” Luke ducks down to put his face in Spencer’s eyeline, “if you finish that in the next ten minutes we’ll have time to take Roxy for a walk.”

“Hmm?” Spencer shakes the cobwebs from his mind, “Oh, of course.” He takes three mouthfuls in quick succession and Luke rewards him with a kiss on the cheek.

When they return to the office, Spencer exits the elevator cautiously, as if a case might jump out and attack, but everyone is sitting peacefully at their desks, so the coast seems clear. They get back to their stacks of consultations, playing the high stakes version of Guess Who. With each hour that passes, their odds of having a weekend increase, and with that, the likelihood that Spencer will have dinner with JJ’s family, that JJ’s plan, whatever it is, will come to fruition. Luke’s fancy watch doesn’t make the time pass faster, but gosh does it show the seconds ticking with supreme accuracy. 

It’s after 4:00. The horizon is in view. Luke’s stack is complete, the I’s dotted and T’s crossed, and he sees JJ pluck a file from Spencer’s desk to lighten his load. Luke figures he can do the same. He hops up and casually leans over Spencer’s share. There are actually a  _ few _ files there. The rest of the team is done, chatting amongst themselves, and Spencer is behind. Luke gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder, “Doing okay?”

Spencer shoves a hand into his hair, staring harshly at the documents before him, “Just a lot to go through.”

“Yeah, I made sure to get all the easy ones,” Luke waggles his eyebrows, but he’s prepared for his joke not to land, and he just grabs two files and heads back to his desk.

JJ picks Spencer up at his desk at precisely 5:00, as promised, because she is a proper gentlewoman. “Hey, Spence, are you ready for gumbo?”

“We didn’t get a case?” he asks in surprise, looking around because one still might be sneaking up on them.

“Nope, it’s time to go home. Henry and Michael are waiting.”

Luke plans it so he rides the elevator down with them, reaching over to give Spencer’s hand a little goodbye squeeze before they go their separate ways.

“Henry is so excited to show you a report he did for school,” JJ guides Spencer to her SUV, sliding behind the wheel and waiting for him to get seated before continuing her story. “They had to write a biography of a historical figure, and he picked Nikola Tesla, because of all you’ve told him. He can’t wait for you to read it.”

“That’s great,” Spencer smiles, but JJ can tell he’s nervous by the way his fingers won’t stop moving.

“Spencer,” JJ settles into a gentle tone, “I love you and I want to help you, but this isn’t an intervention. This is dinner, and afterward we can talk. I’m not trying to spring anything on you.”

“I know. You’re my best friend and I trust you implicitly. I just,” he pauses, trying to word this precisely, “am worried there might not be a way to fix this.”

“Of course there is. Spencer, I’ve seen you overcome worse than this.”

“The thing is, I don’t know that I have.” He thinks back through all the awful things that have happened in his life, and the list is extensive, but nothing has ever cut this deeply, ever severed him from himself like this.

“I do,” JJ says plainly, having been there for much of that list. “And you’ll come back from this, I promise you.”

Henry and Michael are up in Spencer’s arms before JJ has a chance to close the door. Henry immediately starts recounting the success of his Tesla report, and Michael has a picture he’s drawn because he would also like something important to contribute.

Will emerges from a kitchen wafting warm spice and detaches his children from Spencer to allow him room to remove his coat and set down his bag. “Now, you boys go and wash up for supper,” he kindly commands. Four small feet scamper through the home. “Nice of you to join us, Spence.”

“Thank you for having me,” Spencer bounces on his heels, and they quickly make their way into the kitchen. 

“It’s a bit of a serve yourself kinda meal,” Will explains as Spencer scrubs clean at the sink. “Grab yourself a bowl, scoop up some rice, and pour on the gumbo. My daddy’d make this for big gatherings.”

Henry holds court through dinner, excitedly detailing the latest elementary school gossip, “We had an ambulance come to our school. Omar fell off the monkey bars and he broke his arm and it looked like it really hurt. He was crying, but so were some of the other kids, and they didn’t even get hurt. Then the bell rang and we all had to go back to class, which wasn’t fair because we missed half our lunch, but Omar has to stay out of school and see a doctor.” He goes on the emotional rollercoaster with the story, enthralled at the experience, confused at the reactions, and then ending on a sad sort of empathy for the other child.

“He’s going to get a cast and you’re all gonna sign it for him, right, Buddy?” JJ smiles at her son, reminding him that there’s a silver lining.

“Yeah,” Henry nods thoughtfully, “Omar’s cool. We’ve played basketball together and he doesn’t hog the ball.”

“He does sound cool,” Spencer commends.

“Oh!” Henry jumps in his seat, “We got a new kid in class and she’s super cool! She’s been all over the world with her dad and she was born in Denmark, which is where the Vikings lived. Do you know about the Vikings, Uncle Spencer?”

“I do.”

Henry would prefer to offer today’s history lesson himself, “They had these super cool ships they’d sail all over in and they carried axes and shields and swords, and their helmets had horns sticking out of them so they could headbutt you!”

“Actually, the horned helmet is a misnomer,” Spencer corrects. “Contemporary depictions show they wore simple iron or leather caps, and many went into battle with no helmet at all.”

Michael drops down from his chair and climbs into Spencer’s lap, making himself included. Spencer keeps him secure with an arm around his middle as Michael entertains himself by ripping the paper napkin into confetti.

“They did have impressive ships,” Spencer continues. “While most of their aquatic ventures were contained to European rivers and coastlines, they did design ships that could travel the open ocean all the way to Asia. In fact, they were the first Europeans to journey to the North American Continent and meet the native peoples here.”

Henry nods slowly, grasping enough of that to know what his uncle is telling him is cool.

“The Vikings were here hundreds of years before Christopher Columbus was even born. They even established a short-term colony in modern-day Newfoundland, which they called Vinland.”

Henry blinks at him, and Spencer knows he’s doing something wrong, or at least not quite right. He looks down at Michael and asks the toddler, “Would you like to be a Viking?”

“I’m a biking,” Michael gets close enough.

“Well, even in their best ships, the open sea was very dangerous to sail on. There were huge waves that would rock their boats!” Spencer mimics this, keeping Michael close as he throws his body side to side in his chair. “And the water would come in like rain, and the wind would blow hard!” He shakes Michael in his lap, earning giggles.

Henry hops out of his seat with a giddy, “I wanna be a Viking!” 

Spencer quickly scoots Michael to one leg so Henry can claim a seat on the other, and Spencer wiggles them about. “Big wave! Ahh!” The boys squeal with him. “Another!” 

“Sharks!” Henry spins the tale dramatically. 

“Oh, no, not sharks! Row! Row your paddles!”

Henry does a valiant pantomime of rowing for his life and Michael looks more like he’s splashing in their imaginary ocean.

Spencer slows his movements to a gentle sway, “Calmer waters. I think we made it, guys.”

“All right, you little Nordic Raiders,” Will rises, “let’s get you sailing up to bed. Spence, would you like that to go?”

Spencer looks down at his dinner, realizing he barely touched it, “Oh, yes please, it was delicious! I’d love to share it with Luke.”

Henry leans his head back to look up at Spencer’s chin, “Are you gonna bring Uncle Luke next time you visit?”

Spencer nods down at him, “I think so, yes.”

“That’s good. I like him.”

“I like him, too.”

They all bring their dishes to the kitchen, lining them up by the sink. 

With a shout of, “All aboard the Daddy Express!” Will scoops his children into his arms and carries them up the stairs towards bedtime. Henry, an expert at this routine, provides the “chugga chugga” sounds while Michael sings out a pretty close rendition of a train’s whistle.

JJ guides Spencer to the living room, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. Spencer sits on the couch across from her, fingers dancing in his lap, lip trapped firmly between his teeth. He’s nervous, but he’s also so grateful to JJ for offering to have this talk.

Excited little feet thunder down the stairs and race toward them across the hall. Henry pauses in the doorway, shyly looking down at the piece of paper in his hand, “Uncle Spencer? Would you like to read my report on Nikola Tesla?”

“Of course I would!”

Exuberance restored, Henry bounds through the room and up on the cushion next to Spencer. He proudly hands off the paper, a red 100% inked on the top by an approving teacher. 

Spencer drags a finger along the words as he digests them, a smile broadening on his face. “You included the death beam!”

“Well, yeah, that was the best part!”

“Henry, this is an excellent report.”

Henry preens at the praise from his beloved Uncle Spencer, “Thank you.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Henry takes the report back, holding it with care. “Good night, Uncle Spencer. Good night, Mom!” With that, he speeds off upstairs.

JJ watches her son go with a proud smile, then turns back to Spencer, “You know, he can’t stop talking about your Hamilton reenactment. He told his teachers, his friends, us a  _ couple _ times.”

“He’s a great kid.”

“And he had a great pair of babysitters. You and Luke make a pretty fine team. Of course, Will and I knew that before you did,” she teases, and when Spencer doesn’t react to the humor, she readjusts. “It’s so nice to have Will and the boys to come home to. I’m really happy you have that now, too.”

Spencer nods, thinking that over, “We’re actually looking for a new place together.”

“That’s exciting!” she beams.

“We were supposed to view a house this weekend, but I don’t think I can…”

“That’s okay,” she’s quick to assure. “There will always be more houses. You still have each other, and you can keep looking.” She watches a dark shadow cross Spencer’s face, so she moves on to Plan C. “I want to tell you a story.”

Spencer looks surprised before showing her she has his attention.

“A few years ago there was a string of bank robberies. They hit DC and Will was first on the scene. There was a shootout, his partner was killed, and one of the thieves was shot.”

Spencer looks confused, “JJ, I remember this. I was there.”

“I know, just listen. The injured thief died and his partners blamed Will. They started shooting hostages, demanding we send him in. I told Will not to, I begged him, but you know Will. He couldn’t let anyone else get hurt. He went in, and I was so scared…” It’s been years, but speaking about this brings out pains that still feel fresh. “And then I heard those two gunshots. My heart stopped in that moment. And then they cut the cameras so I couldn't see him, I didn’t know if he was okay. I had hope, but I had to be realistic. It was possible he was already dead. Will.  _ My Will.” _ She swallows back tears, reminding herself for the thousandth time that this story has a happy ending. “And then the building blew up, and how could he have possibly survived that? I had to face that the man I loved was gone, and I was so angry at God for taking him away when I still needed him. Henry still needed him. I couldn’t imagine having to go on without him.”

Spencer is staring intently at JJ, taking in and storing every word. He can see now the example it serves and is eager to learn any lesson JJ gained. “When you knew he was okay, how long did it take you to accept it?”

“I’ll still feel the fear to this day.” JJ watches this dishearten him, understandably, and she continues, “But what matters most is that he’s still here. He’s still here for me, he’s still here for Henry, we have Michael now. I have had so much good in my life since then. The fear is still there, but so is the joy.”

Spencer nods slowly, analyzing, mentally organizing.

The rap of knuckles on wood draws their attention to Will leaning against the door jam, “Mind if I join you?” Smiling warmly at her husband, JJ reaches out a hand in invitation. He takes it, holding it sweetly as he sits in the chair beside her. “I thought I might be able to offer some insight, on account of someone I love also works for the BAU, and I know how hard that can be. The job is dangerous.”

Spencer takes in a shaky breath at that. It’s true, the work is so dangerous, and Luke goes out into it every day and there’s nothing Spencer can do to protect him. “H-how do you handle that?”

Will thinks on that a moment, then turns to JJ, “I have faith in my wife. Faith in her training and her abilities. I know she can handle the danger. You all can. And you all look out for one another, keep each other safe.”

Spencer winces, holding himself tightly around the middle and turning away.

“Listen, Spence,” Will waits for Spencer to turn back to him before continuing, “You can’t fear the future, because every happy yesterday was an unknown tomorrow and if you focus on the worry, you aren’t present for the joy.”

JJ squeezes their joined hands and says with pride, “That was good.”

“Yeah,” Will blushes, “I practiced that one in the mirror.”

While JJ laughs, Spencer just nods as the words fall into place and resonate within him, “That  _ was _ good. I think I  _ am _ afraid of tomorrow.”

“Have you talked with Luke about how you’re feeling?” JJ asks.

Spencer shakes his head, his fingers shoving into his hair, “What I feel doesn’t make sense, my thoughts aren’t rational.”

“Okay. So you say the irrational things, and you make them make sense together.”

Spencer files that advice away for further study. “How do you do it? Knowing what you both do, how do you avoid spending every second afraid for each other?”

The spouses look at each other, communicating without words. Their marriage is ever-evolving, ever improving, but the essence of how they work has never been articulated. “You need something to hold onto,” JJ decides. “Something of each other that grounds you.” It’s vague and seemingly metaphoric, but Spencer can work with that.

Will’s phone pings, and he checks it. “Looks like we’ve got company.” He rises to answer the door, letting in Luke. JJ stands up to greet him and they three exchange quick pleasantries as Spencer still runs their words across the screen of his mind.

“Will and I will go get that pie,” JJ announces, leaving Luke outside the living room archway.

Luke’s focus zeros in on Spencer, scanning for any signs of improvement. “Hey.”

Spencer is pulled quickly from his thoughts and he smiles, his face lifting with more ease than Luke has seen in days. “Hi, Luke.” He scoots along the couch, making room beside him, and Luke doesn’t hesitate to sit with him.

“How was dinner?”

There are many words that float around Spencer’s mind, but he settles on, “Good.”

Luke lays a gentle hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “And the boys?”

Spencer’s smile widens, “Great. Michael showed me his drawing, and his skills are improving, and Henry wrote a report on Nikola Tesla for school.”

“You love Tesla!”

“I do. He used some of the stories I told him. Oh, and Henry said he likes you.”

Luke’s chest puffs out at that, “I like him right back.”

JJ and Will return with four plates of gooey pecan pie, handing them around and returning to their chairs. They’re silent, no one quite sure what to say, until Will starts, “I’ve been helping Henry with his solar system project, drawing up a model of the sun and planets, and it just doesn’t look right anymore.”

“Oh, here we go,” JJ laughs in mock warning.

“I just think Pluto should still be a planet,” Will throws up an indignant hand. “What’s the harm in leaving it alone? Eight little planets twirling around, just stopping at Neptune, it’s a shame.”

JJ throws back her head to let her laughter really get going.

Will points at her, “Don’t tell me you don’t agree.”

“Oh, no,” she lifts her hands in innocence, “as your wife, I completely agree, and I’ll sign any petition you want me to… ten years after the fact…”

Spencer chimes in, “You know, it was actually the 2005 discovery of the larger trans-Neptunian object, Eris, by Caltech astronomers that pushed the IAU, the International Astronomical Union, to reclassify Pluto as a dwarf planet.”

“Caltech,” Will points at him with hope. “Good, your alma mater. Maybe you can talk some sense into them.”

“I probably still know the dean,” Spencer considers seriously.

“We’ll all go,” Luke decides around a mouthful of pie. “Flash all our badges around, let them know it’s important.”

Spencer is momentarily confused, but then the conversation moves on to Michael joining a Lil’ Kickers soccer program and Spencer moves right along with it. 

Dessert and conversation come to a natural end, and Will hops up to take their plates to the kitchen, coming back with a doggy bag for the guests. “Spence, I added a bit more gumbo for you, and Luke, you’ve got a serving in here, too, plus a slice of pie each.”

Luke’s eyes widen in excitement, “More of that pie? Thank you, it was delicious!”

Will lifts his head high, “Why, thank you, that was my Mama’s recipe.”

“You  _ made _ that? Wow, compliments to you and your mom, really. And thank you so much, this was really nice of you both.”

“Yes,” Spencer agrees, “thank you, JJ, Will, you helped me. A lot.”

“That’s because we love you,” JJ wraps him in a hug, squeezing strength into it.

Luke can see the changes in Spencer, how much lighter he seems, so when he hugs Will goodbye he says with powerful sincerity,  _ “Thank you.” _

“Don’t mention it,” Will says a bit bashfully, handing off the bagged meals. “You enjoy.”

As they walk out to the Subaru, Luke keeps a hand on the small of Spencer’s back, wanting to feel connected, and wanting Spencer to feel supported. They separate to get in the car, the food still warm in Spencer’s lap, and Luke gives his hand one last squeeze before pulling onto the road. He drives slowly, letting the world slowly roll by, and enjoying that dinner seemed to go well.

They’re on the freeway before Spencer speaks, his voice soft, “I’m still...processing, but when we get home, can we talk?”

“Absolutely!” Luke says with abundant enthusiasm. “That would be great.” He clicks on the radio, letting soft music fill the silence so no one feels pressured to make a sound. Luke can wait until they get home. 

Spencer is staring out his window, and his fingers are drumming against his legs, but they’re tapping to the beat of the music, and that’s enough to give Luke hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are seriously the best. I'm just floating on those comments still. I'm so grateful that you're still reading and taking the time to reach out; it means so much to me :-)


	34. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, TobiasHankel :-) You were right, it was exactly what I needed!

Luke parks in the garage and he’s halfway to the stairs when he realizes Spencer is no longer with him. He turns back to see him halted in thought a few paces from the car, bag of food twitching in his wiggly hand, and Luke jogs back to him, “Hey, you ready to head up?”

Spencer is still thinking, brow furrowed, “I’m sorry we’re missing that open house. I know you really liked that kitchen.”

Luke tosses a hand, “There will be other houses. Besides, the backyard was too small.” 

That reminder settles Spencer and he starts walking forward. Luke lets him lead so he’ll see if he stops again. He doesn’t, and they make it all the way to Roxy. Luke takes the gumbo and pie to the fridge as Spencer dotes on the prancing pup, and when Luke returns with two full glasses of water, Spencer is sat in thought in the middle of the couch, leaving no room on either side to share. Spencer needs space when he’s processing like this, so Luke sets the waters on the table and takes a chair.

They’re quiet as Luke waits for Spencer to organize his mind. 

Eyes locked on a far wall, Spencer takes in a deep breath and finally just comes out with it, “I think I’m mad at you. You promised forever and then you died.”

“I didn’t die,” Luke tries to comfort, but he can immediately tell that was a mistake by the way Spencer crumples in on himself and shuts down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted. I’ll listen.  You can get it all out and I won't judge you, okay? You can tell me anything and we'll just talk it through.” With that, he shuts his mouth and vows to keep it that way until Spencer has been able to unburden himself.

Spencer still isn’t looking at him, but he speaks again, feeling the need to defend himself, "I know this isn't rational. I'm grieving the loss of you while you're sitting right there. It doesn’t make sense. I’m a man of science, so the empirical data of your presence should be enough to cure me of this, but it isn’t, and I don’t understand why. In a finite universe there is no concept of forever, but you made me believe in it anyway. I wanted it. I still do.”

He takes in a hitching breath and the tears start to fall, but he doesn’t stop, “I hate that I’m mad at you. What kind of horrible person blames someone for being  _ murdered? _ For being cut and bled like that? But I just kept feeling like you left me, right when I started to trust. And then I kept thinking about what you must have gone through, and  _ I’m so sorry.” _

He takes a few deep breaths because he’s starting to lose control. “How was I supposed to tell you I was angry at you for something that, not only were you not at fault for, but that didn’t even happen? And you’ve been nothing but wonderful since the day we met.”

It’s difficult for Luke to hear, this self-loathing infecting Spencer over all this, and he wants to fix it, tell the man he loves how absolutely perfect he is, but he promised to listen. He has to let Spencer get this out. It’s poisoning him. 

Spencer shakes his head in realization, “It’s transference. I feel anger toward you because I’m really angry at myself. I can’t forgive myself for failing you. The evidence was right in front of me but I couldn’t see it, I just saw you. And if I were in trouble, you’d have saved me, but I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t think, my brain betrayed me. I’m supposed to be a genius. I’m just a walking brain, but I was  _ useless!” _ He drops his face into his hands, muffling an agonized moan. 

It takes every bit of emotional strength for Luke to resist reaching out and touching. It’s what he would want, but this isn’t about him, it’s about Spencer, and Spencer is a raw nerve right now. He leans forward and sets his hand on the table, in Spencer’s line of sight, and if Spencer wants it he can have it.

Spencer’s voice is still muffled in his hands, the tears swelling in his throat, “I’m still so scared I’ll close my eyes and when I open them you won’t be here.”

Luke taps the table. He’s right here, not going anywhere.

Spencer lifts his head up enough to look at that hand, and he directs his next words to it, “Thinking you were dead was the worst time of my life.”

Luke doesn’t mean for it to slip out, but he agrees, “Thinking you were dead was the worst time of my life, too.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Spencer glances at Luke’s chest, “What do you mean?”

“That time I saw you get shot? I’ve never been more terrified. I thought I lost you.”

“I was only shot in the vest,” Spencer shakes his head.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that. I just knew you weren’t responding, and then I saw you lying there…” Luke shakes the image from his mind. It isn’t doing him any good. “I’m not saying it’s the same. I was only in that dark place a minute, you were there for hours, but I get it enough.”

“I didn’t know…” Spencer’s eyes go distant as he pulls back into himself. His arms tighten protectively around his middle and he looks physically pained.

Luke’s hands are twitching to soothe, to hold, to heal. “Spencer?” His voice comes out a whisper, a disturbance in the silence, “Can I touch you?”

Spencer frowns, scooting away, and Luke feels his heart clench at the rejection, but then Spencer unwraps an arm and reaches out, eyes finally meeting Luke’s to ask, “Could you hold my hand?”

“Yes!” Luke leaps to fill the empty cushion, taking Spencer’s hand in both of his.

“Thank you.” Spencer’s voice is tight with flowing tears, and his other arm is still gripped around his stomach. He hunches in on himself, his shoulders tremoring, and he sounds so small and scared when he asks, “Do you still love me?”

“Yes, of course I love you!”

With a sob, Spencer collapses against Luke, and Luke is quick to catch him, wrapping him in his arms, finally able to hold him again.

“Spencer, you’re in pain, that’s not going to make me stop loving you. You’re an amazing person and I’m so lucky to have you. I need you to hear this. Even though you’ve been going through all this, you’ve been taking such good care of me. My feet don’t even hurt anymore because of you. And you’re so good with Roxy, and you did that whole thing with the flowers and the chocolates just to make me feel loved, and you kiss me through scary movies, you’ve made me that same curry almost a dozen times because I’m addicted to it. Spencer, you’re  _ everything.” _

“I love you, too,” Spencer cries into Luke’s chest. “I’m sorry!”

“You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I’m falling apart.”

“Just hold onto me.”

Spencer does, fingers clutching his cotton shirt and face pressed under his chin. “You went through so much. I should be the one comforting you.”

“We take care of each other.”

“What if I can’t get better?”

“You will.”

“What if I don’t?”

“I won’t let that happen.” It’s a promise Luke will not break. 

The sobs shake Spencer’s whole body against Luke, ripping out the pain by its roots and leaking it messily into the open air.

Hands rubbing up and down Spencer’s back, Luke transfers comfort, support, love, and strength. He’s so focused on this task he barely notices Spencer becoming heavier and heavier against him until he’s almost asleep in Luke’s arms. “Spencer?”

With a startled breath, he pulls back enough to meet Luke’s eyes, and his cheeks are still bright but his tears have dried. He’s worried.

Luke slides his hand along Spencer’s cheek, cradling his face, “Let’s go to bed.”

Spencer nods into Luke’s palm, then turns his head to press his lips against Luke’s thumb. He closes his eyes, freezing mid-kiss to focus on the moment.

With his other hand, Luke pets through Spencer’s hair, and because it seems Spencer needs to hear this now more than ever, Luke repeats, “I love you.”

Spencer winces to hold in tears. A deep breath calms him, and he opens his eyes, “I love you, too, Luke.”

No matter how often he hears them, those words will always put a big happy grin on his face. “You ready to go to bed?”

Spencer nods, and they rise as one. As they brush their teeth, Luke keeps an arm wrapped around Spencer, not to keep him up, just to keep him close. They shed themselves of their stiff work clothes and adorn soft sleepwear.

Roxy is waiting for them, wagging on the foot of the bed, and Luke gives her a good rub down before rounding the bed and shimmying under the covers. 

Spencer is still standing, staring through the doorway at that couch, like he can still see them out there, watch what just played out all over again.

Luke reaches out, tugging at Spencer’s elbow, “Come to bed.”

Nodding, Spencer perches on the edge of the mattress, faced away, and again he stops.

Luke sighs, “Spencer, I know that was a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer drags his hands down his face.

“Spencer, I’m glad you said it.”

Spencer turns at that, not fully facing him, but enough that Luke can watch emotions play over his features. Right now, he’s displaying confusion.

“All that,” Luke explains, “it was too heavy. I’ve been seeing it weigh you down. You needed to get it out, and I’m glad you did.”

Spencer’s body releases some of its tension, shoulders relaxing.

“If you don’t get that stuff out, deal with it, it will break out in other ways. Hurtful ways. Like, the man you love might promise to protect you because he doesn’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it, and you might respond with something thoughtless like,  _ we’ve only known each other a year.” _

Spencer looks at Luke. That memory still stings, but it’s a cooling balm compared with what’s rattling through his mind now.

“Thank you for forgiving me for that,” Luke says sincerely. “We have to be able to say things, even if they’re wrong, even if they’re irrational, and then we work on them together.”

Still above the covers, Spencer drops his head low and curls against Luke’s chest, “Thank you.”

Luke lays them back against the pillows, holding Spencer to him, “We’re going to fix this, Spencer. I promise, it will get better.”

Spencer steps into the morgue to find the coroner standing in the center of the room, clipboard in hand, ready to give his report. He doesn’t acknowledge Spencer, just reads off his notes, “The first victim is Kelly Landis. Her stomach is empty, there are signs of dehydration, the cause of death was suffocation. More intriguingly, her lips were removed and a crumpled piece of paper was found in her throat.”

“Yes,” Spencer looks around at the sheet-covered bodies, “it was a movie script.  _ I _ found that.”

The coroner doesn’t acknowledge his response, just flips to the next page, “Delilah Grennan was bludgeoned to death with a blunt and heavy object, puncture wounds in her stomach consistent with a screwdriver.”

“It’s a constellation,” Spencer explains, confused that, though he has information, this still doesn’t make sense. He’s ignored yet again.

“The third body is Officer Kevin Jensen. He was asphyxiated and his mouth was sewn shut postmortem.”

“Yes, by John Myers, The Silencer. We solved this. We solved all of these. Why-” 

The coroner pulls down all three sheets at once to reveal the bodies, and each corpse is Luke. Luke with his lips removed, Luke with a constellation stabbed into his stomach, Luke with his lips sewn shut. In horror, Spencer stumbles backwards and his back hits another slab. Lying there is Luke, his decomposed body torn by the jaws of animal and human alike. On the next table, Luke has been stabbed through the heart with an ice pick.

Spencer turns, and standing before him is Luke, pale in death, a stiletto stabbed into his neck, a cell phone beeping in his mouth.

Spencer awakens with a heaving breath, hands shooting out into the dark bedroom. He’s shaking, face drenched in tears.  _ Luke is dead. Luke died bloody. _

There’s a sound below him and he turns to see Roxy whining up at him from beside the bed. A sleepy voice soothes her from behind him, “S’okay, Rox.”

Spencer spins and lying there is Luke. Luke, who isn’t bloody at all, just sleeping in the bed they share. Just to be sure, Spencer reaches out a hand and runs it across Luke’s chest. It’s solid, lifting in gentle breath, alive. “Luke is safe,” Spencer whispers to himself. “Luke is with me. Luke is safe.” 

Spencer leans over, laying his head on Luke’s chest and hearing his steady heartbeat. “Luke is safe.” Emotions are trying to burst from Spencer as he wraps his arms around Luke’s body, cuddling into him, his shelter in the storm. “Luke is with me.”

Thump thump. Luke’s heartbeat soothes him. Thump thump. Spencer’s eyes grow heavy. Thump thump. Spencer falls asleep repeating in his mind over and over that Luke is okay.

There’s a pleasant weight on Luke’s shoulder and he cracks his bleary eyes open enough to see the messy tangle of Spencer’s curls before letting them slide back closed with a smile. He will never again take for granted how amazing it feels to awaken cuddled up with this man. He turns his face to press a kiss to Spencer’s forehead and runs his hand up and down his back. Spencer doesn’t even stir, still deeply asleep, and Luke settles in. This is not the morning to let Spencer wake up alone.

The gentle snoring from the foot of the bed assures Luke that Roxy is fine staying in for now, so he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone to keep himself entertained. He taps between the news and social media, finding more happiness in a brightly colored game. 

Luke has to pee. It isn’t urgent, and he tries to force the need away, but he is well aware that there is no winning an argument with a bladder. He thinks dry thoughts, bright sun beating on desert sand, wiggling his hips to try and trick his body.

Spencer stirs with a soft hum. Luke drops his phone to brush those unruly curls from Spencer’s face, “Good morning.”

Spencer blinks up at him and smiles, and it’s just as soft as he remembers, “Good morning.” He nuzzles his face in to press a kiss to Luke’s shoulder.

This is already a good morning, and Luke wants to make it better, “Want pancakes?”

With a delighted little sound, Spencer sits up, “I would love pancakes.”

“Great. But first, I have to pee.” Luke makes it to the bathroom in three steps. This seems to inspire Roxy, who hops off the bed to point her body toward the front door and turns her head back to send a pointed glance Spencer’s way.

“I’m gonna take Roxy out,” Spencer announces loud enough for Luke to hear. 

“Thank you! I’ll get the pancakes going!”

Spencer meanders through the neighborhood, letting Roxy sniff to her puppy heart’s content. He hasn’t felt this light in so long he seems almost weightless, feet rising as soon as they fall on the pavement. “All right, Roxy,” Spencer pats her side to get her attention. “Let’s get back to Luke.” The dog is almost as excited to return to him as Spencer is.

Breakfast is waiting for them, a gourmet selection of proteins and fruits for Roxy and a stack of fluffy, syrupy pancakes for Spencer. 

“Did you have a nice walk?” Luke asks the dog who is far more interested in her meal than a conversation.

“We did,” Spencer answers for her, sitting down before his warm maple goodness. “We saw three other dogs on their walks, and Roxy was nice to every one of them, even the pomeranian that growled.”

“Good girl, Rox!” Luke praises, getting just the barest twitch of an ear in response as she chews.

Spencer takes in a sticky mouthful and moans, chewing slowly to savor. “You make the best pancakes.”

“Thank you,” Luke beams. “My mom’s secret is vanilla in the batter.” Watching Spencer inhale three bites in a row, Luke adds, “I think you’re also pretty hungry.”

“I’m starving,” Spencer sounds amazed at this, and Luke thinks about all the meals Spencer has missed, but decides not to bring it up. What’s important is Spencer is eating now.

Roxy passes by to hop up on the couch, and it’s a little action that triggers an onslaught of memories in Spencer, of all they discussed last night, of all he released. The weight is back, heavy on his heart, and he sets down his fork. It clangs against the plate and Luke stops mid-bite to look at Spencer. Spencer takes a few breaths to find his words, “I… Last night, it was difficult...for me to say those things. And I think, it must have been difficult for you to hear them.”

Luke throws his head side to side with how powerfully he needs to reassure Spencer, trying to let him know, “No, I’m fine!” but with a mouth full of pancake he just gets out a sticky mumble. Spencer squints, failing to decipher, and Luke takes a mighty swallow, “I’m fine! It’s all good. Thick skin, remember?” He reaches across the table, taking Spencer’s hand, “You really can tell me anything.”

“I believe you,” Spencer says sincerely, giving Luke’s hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”

Luke finishes his stack with a contented rub over his belly. Spencer, though, can only finish half before he’s full, but it’s progress. 

“Okay,” Luke announces as they walk their plates into the kitchen, “it’s time to tackle these dishes.” They have piled up now past the rim of the sink, half-rinsed bowls and spoons. Luke gets a sponge sudsy and Spencer steps up next to him, dish towel in hand. Luke smiles, “I wash, you dry?” 

Spencer nods, and then, just because he wants to, he bends forward to kiss Luke’s cheek. Warmth radiates across Luke’s face and he turns to press their lips together. He keeps the kiss light, happy, and pulls away just enough to whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Spencer gives him one more kiss before stepping back to make room for their chores.

Luke gets to scrubbing, handing rinsed dishes to Spencer for him to towel dry. It’s an easy flow until Luke notices Spencer has frozen, bowl and towel in hands, eyes suddenly distant and haunted. Luke takes the bowl from his hand and sets it on the counter, gently grazing fingertips against Spencer’s wrist, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Spencer’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. The words are stuck, he’s struggling.

“It’s okay,” Luke takes the towel to dry his hands. “This can wait. Let’s go sit down.” He guides Spencer out to the couch with a hand between his shoulder blades and Spencer comes along easily, trusting. They sit close, Luke wrapping an arm around Spencer’s waist. “Talk to me?”

Spencer drags a hand down his face, “I’m sorry. After last night, I thought… But I just keep…” He shakes his head, the words not coming.

“I want to hear it,” Luke encourages, because he does. He wants to know what’s in Spencer’s head so they can make it better together.

Spencer reads Luke’s face and sighs, relaxing, and he finds his voice. “I have been given so much. I’m provably a genius, I got a full ride to the university of my dreams, I have a job that I love where I get to help people. For a while I hoped for more, but then I realized that that was enough. That asking for more from a universe that had already been so generous was _...greedy. _ And then came Maeve Donovan. She was brilliant and we understood each other and she  _ liked _ me. I thought… I thought maybe I could have that, too. And I wanted her.” His breath catches on a lump of emotion and he focuses on a steady exhale to soothe him. Luke’s hand rubbing up and down his back does a better job. “I let myself think that that love was possible, and my greed got her killed. And then I met you, and I should have learned, but I just wanted you  _ so much. _ You’re this amazing, perfect human being; you have the kindest heart I’ve ever known. And you bought me a star, and you danced with me on a mountaintop, and you’re  _ so beautiful, _ and you make me pancakes… I was selfish and I wanted you and I have just been waiting... When he said you were dead, I didn’t even hesitate, I knew you were gone because a part of me has been expecting it this whole time. That you would be taken from me, too.”

A powerful guilt overwhelms Spencer and he hides his face under Luke’s chin, “I shouldn’t have put that on you. I’m so sorry. You’re the most important part of my life; risking you was just selfish.”

“Oh, Cariño,” Luke hugs him tightly to his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair. He can hear the pain in his voice, the tremor as his body shakes against him, and as much as he doesn’t want to interject, he can’t let Spencer dwell in this mental space. “Look, we both put a lot of good into the world. That gets us a lot of Karma Coins, and I’m cashing them in for us. Okay? We’re gonna have a lot of happiness from this generous universe. Because it’s not selfish. We make each other happy, and we deserve that.”

Spencer pulls back with composure constructed of paper-mache. He stares at Luke’s chest and sniffs back a tear, “I know I sound crazy-”

“No, not crazy.” Luke won’t let him use that word. Not on himself.

“When I saw you in that file room, I thought you were a schizophrenic hallucination.”

Luke doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he stays silent, but he makes sure he’s still rubbing comforts into Spencer’s back. He doesn’t want the slightest hint that he’s pulling away.

“I know the odds greatly decreased once I passed my thirtieth birthday, but they haven’t hit zero. It’s always a possibility.”

“Spencer,” Luke runs a single finger under his jaw, lifting his chin so their eyes meet, “I know Schizophrenia has haunted you for a long time, but you don’t show any signs. I wasn’t a hallucination. You can let that worry go.”

Spencer’s face pinches miserably, “My… my brain hasn’t worked since that day. I can’t think, I’m having difficulty processing, I’m reading slower… What if it won’t work again? What if this is how I’m going to be for the rest of my life? What if I’m broken?”

“You aren’t broken, Spencer. You’re just sad.”

Spencer takes that in. "Why am I sad? You're right here. It doesn't make sense." 

"It doesn't have to make sense to be real." 

“How did you do it? When you thought I died, how did you find the courage to keep loving me, after knowing the pain of losing this?”

"You were still here. I could do nothing  _ but _ love you." 

A single tear slowly glides down Spencer’s cheek, “You love me for my mind. What if I can’t be the man you love anymore?”

Luke pulls him against his chest, needing to convey with touch as well as words, “I love you for every part of you. Every part. And your mind is still there. I can see it. Trust me.”

“I trust you.” Spencer blindly slides his hand along Luke’s forearm until he has their fingers entwined, pulling their joined hands to his chest. “I should feel embarrassed for saying all that, but I just feel empty.”

“You got a lot out.”

“You let me. That meant a lot. I think I’m still going to feel those fears for a while.”

“That’s okay.” Luke will be here to talk again, and again. They don’t need to solve everything, just enough to make it to tomorrow a little more whole.

“You called me Cariño.”

“Yeah,” Luke smiles, running through every affectionate term it can translate to, “it means sweetheart.”

Also fluent in Spanish, Spencer nods. “I like it.”

“Good. I’ll keep doing it.  _ Cariño.” _

Spencer hums contentedly, nuzzling his cheek into Luke’s shoulder, “You make me feel loved.”

“Want to hear some of the things I love about you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that…” Spencer doesn’t want to put him out, which is clearly a silly thought.

“I want to, so I’m gonna. I love how sweetly you hug. I love that you like my pancakes this much; we both know I’m a terrible cook, but you make me feel like a Michelin Star chef. I love that you baked dog biscuits for Roxy from scratch. I love how you are so open to welcoming my family into your life. I love your smile when you first wake up, like you’re just so happy to be with me.”

“I really am.” Spencer settles in more comfortably beside Luke, leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as he’s talked out of the miserable cave he’s been trapped in. 

Luke drops a kiss to Spencer’s hair, “I love how your fingers dance when you’re talking, how your nose crinkles when you’re thinking, how easily you can get lost in a book. I love that you know sixteenth century love poems and what flowers mean and every word to Hamilton.”

“You like the things about me that most people think are weird. I love that you love me for who I am, because I can’t be anyone else.”

“I’d never want you to be. I’m so happy we have each other.”

That emptiness Spencer was feeling is filling with warmth, and he wants to take part in this uplifting game of Love Listing. “I love so many things about you, too. I love how selflessly you made room for me in your home so we could spend all this time together. I love how well you care for Roxy, and how you can make friends everywhere you go. I’ve always been told I’m exceptional, but with you I feel special.”

Luke takes a moment, rubbing Spencer’s back as he replays those words in his mind. “I think we’ve finally become that sappy couple that everyone pretends to hate but is secretly jealous of.”

“I love you,” Spencer sighs.

“I love you, too, Cariño.”

Spencer jolts, pulling back to meet Luke’s eyes, “You’ve been taking care of me but I haven’t done the same for you!”

“Umm,” Luke lifts a foot and wiggles it in the air, “my blisters disagree.”

Spencer shakes his head, “We’ve been so focused on my mental state, I haven’t given you space to talk about what happened to you. You went through something harrowing and I haven’t even asked you about it.”

“Do you want to hear about it?”

“Yes!” Spencer blinks, thinking it over, “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I come off as a hero,” Luke smirks. “I’ll be telling this story for the rest of my life.”

Spencer sits back against the armrest, eyes glued to Luke, “Tell me?”

“Sure,” Luke nods. “We were leaving the bar, Woody was driving, and the unsub, Benji Roscoe, was driving up behind us. He started tailgating us as we reached where the road went out over the river, and Woody went to brake but something was wrong. He couldn’t slow the car. I was so sure we wouldn’t go over, but we did, and it was so weird, that sudden tilt when there’s no longer road beneath a wheel. It’s eerie how silent falling is.”

Spencer takes Luke’s hand, face full of sympathetic worry, and that’s when Luke realizes he’s getting emotional talking about this for the first time. 

“Yeah, it was scary. We hit that water so fast. Woody hit his head in the crash and I couldn’t wake him, so I had to drag him out of there. We were sinking. And it was so cold and the current was so strong, I went under and I didn’t think I’d come back up…” It’s more difficult to remember than he thought and it’s all coming to him in a jumble, but Spencer keeps on listening. 

Luke takes a steadying breath, feeling Spencer’s fingers squeeze in support. “But then I thought of you. When I tell you you were there with me, I mean it. You got me through that. You got me to shore. You gave me the strength to carry that man until he woke up. And then to follow him through that wilderness all day. Now, Woody, he was bleeding from a head wound, no doubt concussed, and he just kept on guiding us out. He never gave up. That man is the definition of courage. I told him about you, to cheer us up, about our first date and all you did. He knew you and I were together, too, saw how we looked at each other. I guess we aren’t as good at hiding as we thought. When he fell and hurt his leg I had to support him again and I didn’t have the energy, but I still had you. I’ve never been as strong as I was working to get back to you. That hope was all I had by the time night fell, but we got to a road, and a car came, and that was that.” 

“You saved him,” Spencer says with awe.

“Well, yeah, he was my ticket out of there! I didn’t know where I was going.”

“Luke. You saved him.”

Luke isn’t sure what to say to that so he just lifts Spencer’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

Tears shine in Luke’s eyes and he doesn’t trust his voice so he just nods. 

Spencer surges forward, grabbing Luke in a tight hug, and his whispers, “We’re home. We’re safe.”

“Yeah, we are. You… You wanna just stay home today?”

Spencer lets him go, pulling back to look at him. “Yes. I would.”

“Good,” Luke sighs. “I’d like to cuddle up and read. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Spencer smiles. 

Luke hops up to give his meager bookshelf a perusal, “You could probably finish all of these in an afternoon.” Spencer follows him to glance over his shoulder, so Luke picks up a very specific novel and waves it in front of them, “You could start with the literary masterpiece, Rocky Splendor.”

Spencer laughs. 

Luke drops the book, spinning around to face his boyfriend because  _ Spencer just laughed. _ Spencer laughed  _ at his joke. _ He pulls him forward and kisses him soundly, passionately. He’s panting by the time he comes up for air, “I missed you.”

“I missed me, too.” He bends down to pick up that tossed away book and reverently grazes his fingers over the cover. “How did the Pulitzer pass this up?”

Laughter erupts from Luke, a joyous thrill, because it’s funny, but mostly because  _ it’s Spencer. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made this part of a series because I have two more installments planned (mostly) out in my head. Also, this one is going to be more like 46 chapters by the time I've finished it, so yay, more words!
> 
> Thank you all for being here, in this virtual living room, reading my story on my couch and then talking to me about it. This is a writer's dream :-)


	35. The Plaid Hatter

“I want to take you to a coffee shop!” Luke shouts into the steamy bathroom as he combs his hair.

Spencer pulls back the shower curtain enough to stick his head out, and his hair is bubbly with shampoo, sticking out in amusing angles, but his eyes are excited, “A coffee shop?”

“Yeah, a new one opened up in the neighborhood. Interested?”

“Very!” Spencer throws the curtain shut, intent on increasing the speed of his morning routine. 

They pull on coats against the December chill and shove their cell phones into the pockets, always aware that work could demand them at any moment, and venture out hand in hand. They stay close to keep cozy along the sidewalk.

They’re lured into French Roast by the blast of warmth and heavy aroma of coffee. The shop leans into its theme, paintings lining the walls of famous Parisian landmarks, French artwork, and at least ten unique renditions of the fleur de lis. The barista has a black and white striped shirt with a lopsided beret. It’s fantastic. They order a french press to share, respecting the environment, and after staring longingly at the displayed baked goods, Spencer orders a cinnamon roll and Luke points at a blueberry muffin.

Bypassing the bistro sets made of swirling iron, they seat themselves in a corner booth under a photograph of lovers kissing before the Eiffel Tower. It isn’t too busy, a dozen couples gazing at each other over their mugs and a few students tapping away on laptops as they inject caffeine into their faces, and their coffee and warmed treats come quickly.

Luke gives a critical glance around him, “I can’t decide if this place is cheesy or adorable.”

“Well,” Spencer smirks, “we do love cheese.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Luke leans forward to whisper in an exaggerated accent,  _ “Manchego.”  _ Spencer giggles and it brightens Luke’s heart. He’s going to spend the rest of the day earning smiles and laughter from this man.

Next door to French Roast is a haberdashery designed for the Millennial taste. The sign has an image of a top hat with a handlebar mustache, and it’s called The Plaid Hatter. 

“We  _ have _ to go in here,” Luke muses.

“I don’t think we’re cool enough,” Spencer jokes right back, but he’s opening the door and they step in. They’re greeted with a rack of cable knit sweaters in olive, mustard, and salmon. Along the wall is a selection of shirts organized by the thickness of their stripes. There are leather belts sold with awls to hammer in your own waist size, wallets designed to carry beard combs, and the largest bowties in existence. Most excitingly, there are hats to prepare any gentleman for the resurgence of the 1870s party scene, and Luke  _ must _ try them on.

Luke tugs on a deerstalker, letting the flaps cover his ears, “I’m thinking about changing up my look for work.”

Spencer is distracted by a pocket watch chain designed for cell phones, and when he turns to see his boyfriend his eyes light up and giddy laughter bubbles out of him. “Wait! Let’s see if they have pipes.”

“Oh, this place has pipes.” Unfortunately, they only have vape pens, and that doesn’t work for the Sherlock Holmes aesthetic, so Spencer exchanges the deerstalker for a straw boater and adds a clip-on checkered bowtie. He smiles with silly pride at his masterpiece. 

“Your turn!” Luke crushes Spencer’s curls under a newsboy cap with a teasing grin, but his smile fades to appreciation, “Oh, that actually looks really good on you.”

“Yeah,” Spencer chuckles in disbelief, “so does your bowtie.”

“Seriously,” Luke twirls him around to face a mirror. “Why don’t you ever wear hats?”

“Because wool is itchy?” Spencer sneaks a single finger up under the brim to scratch at his hairline.

“Fair enough,” Luke plucks the hat away and sets it back on its stand. He returns his hat and bowtie, as well, and looks around more carefully, “What are the odds we’ll find something here we’d actually wear?”

“17 percent,” Spencer states with confidence before venturing into the clothing aisles. He comes back not a minute later and Luke doesn’t know how he found this shirt because there isn’t a hint of irony to it. It’s dark blue, soft cotton, with three-quarter sleeves. “You look nice in earth tones.”

Well, now this is just a challenge, and Luke has to find something equally as nice for Spencer. He takes the shirt and retraces his boyfriend’s steps, seeing the mates to his own, skipping the polka dots, and landing on a lavender button-up. He loves Spencer in lavender and brings the shirt back to him with flourish, “Try this on, too.”

They find the changing rooms, which are just boxes with curtains, and try on their bestowed tops. They emerge at the same time, and Luke does a little spin to show off the fashion, “How about it? Does this shirt make me look good?”

“You’re objectively the most attractive person I’ve ever seen,” Spencer says sincerely. “And the sleeves accentuate your arms nicely.”

Luke steps up close with a pronounced swagger. “Are you flirting with me?”

Spencer presses a sweet kiss to his lips, “Yes. But it’s also the truth.”

“You’re gonna make me blush and it’s gonna throw off this whole look.” 

Spencer giggles at that, and Luke steps back to admire him.

“You make this shirt look good,” he flirts right back, gliding his hands down Spencer’s chest. “I love this color on you.”

Spencer curls a hand around Luke’s, holding it near his heart, “It’s comfortable, and the price is surprisingly reasonable.”

“Well, how about that, we’re buying two shirts at Hipsterland.”

Luke carries their bag over one arm and wraps the other around Spencer’s waist. They have nowhere to be and miles to wander, and after so much misery they finally feel like themselves again, only stronger because of what they got through together.

Spencer stops them, pointing across the street at a toy shop called Active Minds, “Could we go there? I’d like to get something for Henry and Michael for Christmas.”

“I’d like to get something for me,” Luke quips as he checks for traffic, then guides them across. The toys and games are mostly educational, and it excites the child deep within Spencer. He darts from a glow-in-the-dark periodic table to Settlers of Catan, from coloring books of impressionist paintings to a massive display of Erector Sets. Luke is fascinated by the selection, as well, but he’s finding most of his enjoyment in watching his boyfriend play. There’s a youthful glee to the way he picks up a package of sculpting clay just to get distracted by a model train set. 

Spencer hurries back to Luke holding two boxes, wiggling one, “For Henry. His fascination with Nikola Tesla can easily translate into an interest in electrical engineering, and this robot is solar powered.”

Luke nods approvingly, “I think if you build that with him, he’ll love it.”

This manages to brighten Spencer even more, “That would be great!” He lifts the other box, “Michael loves to mimic his brother. Now electricity might be too advanced for a toddler, but this robot action figure can be disassembled and reassembled, so it still promotes engineering skills.”

“I think he’ll have fun with that. These are good gifts.”

Spencer beams at Luke, hopping happily on the balls of his feet. “Did you want to find something for your nieces and nephew?”

“Nah, their wish lists are all online. I click and it’s taken care of. I do want to get Sarah another book at Dog Eared, if you don’t mind stopping there.”

Spencer blinks at him. “Did you just ask if I minded going to a bookstore?”

“Yeah,” Luke laughs, “that was a stupid question.”

Robots purchased, they step back out into the cold with bags swinging from their arms. 

“So, these are couple’s gifts, right?” Spencer confirms, still occasionally seeking guidance on the norms of relationships. “These are to Henry and Michael from the both of us, like Lucia’s zeroth birthday present?”

“Sure, if you’d like,” Luke gives Spencer’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “I signed Andy and Hannah’s gifts from both of us.”

“You did?” Spencer asks, touched.

“Yep. We’re getting them a volcano for the lizard terrarium and a snorkel.”

Spencer stops on the sidewalk, tugging on Luke’s hand until they’re facing each other and then he’s kissing him, arms thrown over Luke’s shoulders, bag and all. “That’s really sweet! I love you!”

“I love you, too, Cariño.”

They close out the cold and Spencer stands in the entryway to Dog Eared, eyes closed, savoring the comforting aroma of old paper and ink. 

“Luke and Spencer!” a voice greets from the stacks, and then Kimiko pops out into the aisle, “How are you?”

“We’re great,” Luke answers for them, and it’s thrilling how honest that is. “Just stopping in on another date.”

“Ooh! Another scavenger hunt?” She hops up to sit on her counter. She’s short, and this puts her eyes almost level with their chins.

“Just a day of shopping,” Luke holds up his bag of shirts as an example. “In fact, I’m hoping to get another book for Sarah.”

Kimiko’s eyes dance with delight, “Our young reader! I’ve been making a list of recommendations for her, it’s just back here.” She leans back until she’s almost lying across the counter and drops a hand below to rummage. “Here! I’ve been focusing on fantasy, since that seems to be her preferred genre. Come take a look.”

While they discuss, Spencer allows destiny to guide him to his next literary adventure. He bypasses archaeological texts, glances momentarily at the anthropology shelf, and then his finger lands on a compilation of folklore from around the world. He flips through the pages, imagines telling some of these tales to Henry and Michael, and holds the book to his chest. It’s perfect. He heads back to the front of the store where Luke is purchasing the first two hardbacks of a new series about a child raised by fairies. Spencer pays for his own and they add them to their bags, starting to feel the heft of the day’s haul in those two pairs of twisted paper handles.

They’re both thinking about heading home when they pass an organic grocery and Luke spins toward Spencer with hope in his eyes, “What ingredients do you need to make more curry?”

Spencer laughs, “Seriously?”

“I  _ never _ joke about your curry!”

“Okay,” there’s still laughter in his voice as he leads the way into The Green Thumb, “well, we have most of it still. I just need the vegetables, and maybe some more rice.”

Luke grabs a basket, practically wagging as Spencer drops in the items for Luke’s favorite dish. “We should also get more food for Roxy while we’re here.”

On their way to the butcher counter, they pass the floral department and the sweet aroma has them stop to enjoy. It’s a Stop To Smell The Roses kind of day. Luke selects a large white flower to admire.

“A lily,” Spencer informs automatically. “It means sweetness and purity.”

Luke’s eyes widen in excitement and he trades the lily for a sunflower, “How about this one?”

“Pride and false riches.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Luke frowns sympathetically at the bloom. “You’re such a happy looking flower.” He sets it back and produces a bouquet with long green stems and bold violet blooms.

“The iris. It means valor, also faith, wisdom, and friendship.”

Luke returns the flowers, rising to use his now empty hand to hold Spencer’s cheek, “You’re amazing.”

“Thank you,” Spencer blushes.

Luke leans in close to whisper intimately, “Best boyfriend.” He gives him a quick kiss, admiring the bright pink of his cheeks, and takes his hand to continue on toward Roxy’s staples.

The bags are heavy once they’ve checked out, but they carry the weight between them and it’s not too much of a burden. Roxy performs an adorable dance for them once they open the door, and they drop all their purchases to the floor to give her a thorough rub-down. Then the dog starts sniffing at the bag with her meat in it and they hop back up to put their groceries away. Spencer sets the vegetables on the counter and starts pulling out coconut milk and curry powder from the cupboard.

Luke’s face lights up, “Are we making the curry now?”

“I figured you’d want it for lunch?” Spencer smiles, knowing the answer.

“I do!” Luke replies enthusiastically. He grabs a cutting board and knife, ready to assist his chef with the chopping. They stand side by side, leaning into each other affectionately as they cook. Luke will never be Julia Childs, and Spencer rarely before committed effort to culinary exploits, but together, they’re a perfect kitchen team.

Once the curry gets simmering, Luke takes Roxy for a stroll while Spencer sets up the rice cooker. Their cell phones are still bulky presences in their pockets, but they are optimistically setting themselves up for some quality uninterrupted time at home.

Luke and Roxy return as Spencer is scooping up two bowlfuls and Luke actually claps his hands together in excitement. They’re steaming so Spencer carries them in one at a time, setting them on pot holders atop the coffee table. 

They take their seats on the couch, calling out a goodnight to Roxy as she heads off for her afternoon nap upon their pillows. Spencer picks up the remote and turns on the TV.

“Want to watch Doctor Who?” Luke asks.

“I had something else in mind.” Spencer clicks through the movie genres, a trick that took Luke about a dozen tries to teach him, and he starts scrolling through Horror. 

“You want to watch a scary movie?”

“Yes. This one’s good.” He selects something Japanese with a very red image for its icon.

“You’ve seen it?”

“I have.” Spencer’s lips twist into a sly smile, “I know where all the scary parts are.”

Understanding dawns and Luke scoots in closer, “So you’re gonna distract me?”

“Of course,” Spencer plays at chivalry, laying an arm over Luke’s shoulder as he selects the movie.

Luke rests a hand on Spencer’s thigh as the opening credits begin. There’s really no reason to wait for a jump scare. “You know, that font is pretty freaky. I think I might be getting scared already.”

“You’re right.” Spencer gently pushes on Luke’s chest until he’s laid back against the armrest, then leans over him to press their lips together. “Better?”

Luke slides his fingers up under Spencer’s shirt, stroking his soft skin, “Much better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters were getting really long cat, and this one came out smol, but as long as I can describe the sizing with ridiculous memes we're good, yeah? Happy day! I hope this brings some cheer, and thank you for reading and commenting, it's brightened up my world considerably!


	36. Hero

Monday arrives laden with worry, weighing Spencer to the couch when he should be getting ready. Things are safe here, happy, but at work, at the BAU, so much can go wrong. He’s been doing this job for years, but for the first time since Hankel, it scares him. It can take everything from him as easily as the pull of a trigger.

Luke returns from walking Roxy, fully dressed and ready for work. He shuts the door and scans the place for Spencer, and when he finds him where he left him on that couch, still in his pyjamas, untouched mug of coffee cooling on the table, Luke frowns. He sits next to him, taking Spencer’s hand and turning his body toward him, “What’s up?”

Spencer has to be open and honest. If there’s anything he learned this weekend, it’s that, and it’s served him well. “I…” he swallows, gaining courage from the squeeze of Luke’s hand. “I don’t know if I can do this job anymore.” He looks at Luke beseechingly, silently begging for an answer he knows neither of them have. 

“Spencer, you’re a great agent. You’ve saved hundreds of lives.”

“You saw me. I was so afraid we’d get a case. Luke, there will always be another case. I don’t know if I can handle watching you go off on another assignment, not knowing if you’ll come back.” He quickly wipes away a single tear, hoping to keep the rest at bay. He’s already shed so many over this.

Luke wants to make promises, promises he can’t keep, and he knows that isn’t fair, so he just says something true, “You love your job.”

“I love you more.” Spencer replies immediately, eyes wide and vulnerable. He’s losing the battle, two more tears escaping.

“Oh, Cariño,” Luke pulls Spencer to his chest, holding him tightly. “You’re still healing. What you’re feeling is valid, and you need time. We’re still going to have our open text policy, and the whole team has our backs.”

“I know,” Spencer admits sadly. He pulls back, feels the circle of Luke’s arms fall away and he grabs one of his hands to maintain the connection. “I think I need… JJ told me that the way she and Will deal with this is that they have something of each other to hold onto. I know she was speaking metaphorically, like their love for each other and their faith, but she was twisting her wedding ring when she said it, and I think… I need something tangible. Something I can touch.”

“All right…” Luke nods slowly, eyes going distant in serious thought. Then a lightbulb flicks on and he reaches down to his wrist, unfastening the watch, “I’ve got it.” He takes his watch and wraps it around Spencer’s wrist, and it’s bulky where Spencer is slender, but he tightens it to fit. “Okay, now give me yours?”

Spencer complies, removing his silver timepiece and sliding it over Luke’s hand, loosening the fastener to fit him. “This… I think this will work.” He traces a finger fondly over Luke’s watch, now on his arm, “I like this. Thank you.”

Luke looks at the delicate wristband and it’s not at all his style, but it’s Spencer’s so he loves it.

“Uh, Luke?” Spencer frowns down at Luke’s wrist gadget, the face blank. “I think it might be broken?”

“Oh, it responds to movement. Twist your wrist and it will light up. Hmm… Try again?” It doesn’t respond, no matter how Spencer wiggles his hand. “You can also press the button on the side.” Spencer does, and the display finally comes on, but not with the time. “Oh, you have to just press it once. If you press it twice, it shows your heart rate.”

_“My heart rate?”_ Spencer sounds almost offended at the thought.

“Yeah, it’s for-” Luke realizes this is obviously not going to work, but that’s okay. There are more watches where this one came from. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He rushes off to his room, pulling open that top dresser drawer. In the front is that broken one from Isleton, waiting to be repaired, and in the corner is his first Rolex, but in the center is the perfect one. He plucks it from the bunch and carries it out, holding it up as he sits back beside Spencer. “This watch is my lucky watch. I was wearing it when I started with the BAU, which means I had this on when I met you.”

Spencer smiles through the short story, and when Luke gets to that last part his jaw falls open, “Oh, Luke.” He watches Luke put it on him, removing the more complicated gadget, and when Spencer looks at this lucky watch, it shows him the time. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Luke holds his hand, bringing their watches close, “Every day before work, we’ll exchange watches, and when we come back to each other at the end of each day, we’ll give them back. This is my promise to you, Spencer, that I will do everything in my power to get back to you. Every day. Okay? And you do the same.”

“Yes, I’ll do everything I can to come home to you. Always. I love this.” It’s a profound relief to have your concerns heard, and for someone you love to work on a solution. This is something physical for Spencer to hold onto, just like he asked for, and it will help. He knows it will.

“So, I think you’re pretty cute in your PJs, but I bet you don’t wanna go to work in them.”

Brow furrowed, Spencer looks down at his outfit, and sure enough, it’s his sleepwear. He hops up with, “Give me five minutes!” and dashes off to the bedroom.

“I’ll give you ten!” Luke calls after him, “But you’re going to have to absorb Prentiss’ glare when we show up late!”

They’re only seven minutes late, sneaking in with the rush to a fresh pot of coffee when Prentiss’ voice shouts over the morning din, “We have a case.” It’s the words Spencer, and therefore by extension Luke, have been dreading. Luke immediately turns to Spencer, worry in his eyes, but Spencer just takes a deep, steadying breath.

“It’s going to be okay,” Spencer says quietly, just for Luke, and his fingers are rubbing over the watch on his wrist. He leads his boyfriend into the conference room.

By lunchtime, they’re halfway across the country, landing in Dallas. The whole team is briefed at the local police station before Prentiss breaks them into teams, sending Rossi and Luke off to interview their key witness. Luke shares a meaningful glance with Spencer, sees strength in the set of his shoulders, and then they’re apart.

Luke slides into an SUV with Rossi behind the wheel, tugging on his seatbelt.

“Nice watch,” Rossi muses as he pulls out onto the road. “Is it new?”

Luke is silent a moment, long enough to flash in neon to the old profiler that his hunch is correct, but then Luke gets cheeky. “Of course it isn’t new. You can see the scratches around the face, and the tarnish from years of wear. Come on, you’re a better profiler than that.”

“All right,” Rossi taps his fingers against the steering wheel, holding back a smile, “if that’s how you want to play this.”

“Depends,” Luke retorts, constructing a poker face out of smoke and mirrors. “What are we playing?”

Rossi chooses his words cautiously, experience giving him a healthy respect for the privacy of romance, “I think you two are good kids, who deserve good things.” Then, just because he got sassed, he adds, “And his watch looks better on him.” It gets a solid cackle out of Luke, and the rest of the car ride is relaxed.

Back in the Dallas police station, Spencer drums his hand erratically against his knee. “JJ, have you heard from Luke or Rossi? They left on that interview over an hour ago.”

JJ sets down the file she was reading, “No, not yet-“

“They should be back by now.” Spencer is staring at the station entrance like he’s casting a summoning spell.

“Spence,” JJ calls patiently, “what time is it?”

“It’s 2:17. They left an hour and fourteen minutes ago. It’s an eleven minute drive to the witness’ home and an average field interview takes-“

_“Spence!”_ JJ repeats with more force, “What time is it?”

Spencer gets it. He lifts the watch on his wrist, _Luke’s_ watch, and strokes its face with two shaky fingers. Luke’s fine. He’s doing his job, and he’ll be back soon because he’s fine. 

“Better?” JJ is suddenly closer, leaning against the conference table with the countenance of maternal wisdom.

Spencer nods and offers her a small smile, “Thank you.”

JJ takes a breath, like she’s about to hoist herself up, but she just settles in. “A few years ago, Will was working the night shift, and I had this crazy dream that he forgot his badge at home, so they arrested him.” Spencer chuckles at the absurdity of that, but JJ just shrugs. “Dream logic. Anyway, I woke up and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened to him. I must have called him seven times. By the time he called me back, he thought I was dying, or worse, that Henry was. When I explained, he wasn’t even mad. He just said, everyone gets to have a freak out every once in a while, and that at least mine made for a funny story.”

Spencer’s eyes go unfocused as he lets the words wash over him. His phone chirps.

_Luke Alvez — > Spencer Reid _ _  
__Twinkle twinkle. Heading back now._

Spencer lets out a long sigh, releasing what feels like every breath he’s taken since Luke left. JJ gives his shoulder a squeeze before going back to her seat.

Luke is driving between crime scenes, Spencer navigating from memory in the passenger seat. “It’s the next right,” Spencer points to the upcoming intersection. “I’m hungry. I wish we’d gotten lunch at that restaurant next door.”

“I was just thinking that! You know what it reminds me of? Those vietnamese sandwiches, with the lemongrass tofu.”

Spencer nods in fond memory, “We should get those when we get back. Left at the sign. We can pick up Roxy and stay at my place, play Clue again.”

“Yeah, your place is great for boardgames. Bigger couch. Smaller bed, though.”

Spencer scoffs, “We fit just fine.”

“I knew it!” Matt shouts from the back seat, arms raised to the car’s ceiling in victory. “I knew you were dating!”

Luke and Spencer both jump at the exclamation, Spencer speaking first with a defeated shake of his head, “He’s six foot two, how did we forget he was back there?”

“I’m focused on driving,” Luke’s eyes are wide in disbelief. “What’s your excuse?”

“I guess you’re distracting.” It’s out. It’s one thing for JJ to know, just slightly more for Prentiss, but Matt? They’re officially outed to the team; it’s only a matter of time.

Matt crows with pride, smiling smugly to himself. “All those lunches together, the rides to and from work. You spend _way_ too much time at each other’s desks.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Luke parks in front of the police tape marking the latest crime scene. 

Spencer risks looking back, nerves evident on his face, and Matt sobers quickly, vowing, “Hey, you know I won’t tell anyone, right?”

They’re all silent a moment, and then Spencer’s lip twitches into the barest smile, “Thank you, Matt.”

Matt nods solemnly, his oath assured. “So… you two play boardgames?”

Spencer, Luke, and Matt return to the precinct to a flurry of activity around the evidence board. A lead detective on the case moves toward them to explain, “We caught a break. We got a letter delivered to us not five minutes ago, and the courier is with a sketch artist now, but the guy who handed him the note meets the description of our unsub.” He leads the way between officers to the board and points to the hand-written message. “It’s in Korean. We’ve got someone from the Asian American Cultural Center coming down to translate, should be here in half an hour-”

“I can translate,” Spencer moves past him for a closer look and his brow furrows in confusion. “This isn’t Korean. More precisely, the alphabet is Hangul but the words are not…” He begins to sound out the syllables, “Wee ja la t wee mee oo m nee… That’s weird… Dos ta toch no…” Spencer’s eyes light up and he takes in an excited breath when realization strikes, “Dostatchno! That’s Russian for _enough_. It’s reverse Kontsevich System.”

Spencer peeks behind himself to see if anyone else is following this, but he hasn’t given much of an explanation so he isn’t surprised when they aren’t, and he turns right back to the note. “They used the Korean alphabet to form Russian words. So, wee becomes vee… Vy means _you._ Jalat… Zhelat’! _To wish_. Hmm, this has English syntax. I can translate this.” He mumbles to himself, converting symbols into sounds between multiple languages. 

“Got it! You wish you were smart enough to stop me. Nina Honchar will be dead before you finish your donuts and my superior brain won’t even break a sweat.” Spencer steps back, done with the note.

Prentiss has Garcia on the line with the press of a single button, “I need the address for Nina Honchar in Dallas.”

“H-o-n-c-h-a-r,” Spencer helps with the spelling. “It’s Ukrainian, meaning potter or ceramist- that doesn’t matter,” he quickly cuts himself off. He’s already given the necessary information.

Garcia’s voice comes cheery through the speaker, “Looks like there’s only one in the area. Address sent to your phones!”

The station sings with synchronized cell phone notifications. On their way to assist in the arrest, Spencer notices Luke watching him, and when Spencer meets his eyes, he sees such pride and love in them he’s almost stopped in his tracks, but then the herd is moving, racing to stop a killer. Spencer will take the mental image with him. 

It’s after midnight when they get back to Luke’s apartment and they’d be exhausted if it weren’t for the rush of saving a life. It’s just the two of them tonight, Roxy secured with Janie when Luke wasn’t sure how the case was going to turn out, and even though she isn’t a noisy dog the place seems too quiet without her. 

“Hey,” Luke grabs Spencer’s hand, sliding his thumb along his knuckles, “you solved that case today.”

Spencer frowns, shaking his head, “You’d think someone wanting to show off their intellectual superiority would have used more than a two level decryption.”

“Spencer!” Luke laughs, “You had to know both Korean and Russian!”

“Seventy five million people speak Korean, one hundred and forty four million speak Russian,” Spencer dismisses.

“Uh-uh,” Luke takes a step back, tugging Spencer with him. “You solved that case with your sexy brains.”

“Oh,” Spencer nods, a soft smile forming. “I see. Yes, I solved the case, which means I’m not broken.”

“Not broken,” Luke keeps pulling Spencer along.

“Thank you,” Spencer squeezes his hand, “for believing in me.”

“Always.”

“You were right, this watch really did help. I suppose we can swap back now, though I’m growing attached to yours.” 

“I like yours, too.” Luke reaches out his other hand to slide it down Spencer’s chest.

Spencer’s eyes are distant, “It will be interesting to see if his lawyer agrees to an interview. There are some things about him that-”

Luke yanks Spencer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing his lips against his ear, “Cariño, I said sexy brains for a reason.”

“Wha- oh! You want…”

“Yes,” Luke’s fingers go to Spencer’s belt, playing with the buckle. “I want.”

With a blush, Spencer ducks his head and laughs. “Sorry.” He doesn’t have much time to be embarrassed, though, because Luke is walking them backwards again, through the bedroom door, and he’s kissing praises down Spencer’s neck and Spencer forgets all about serial killer interviews.

Luke is bringing a latte to Garcia, or as she calls it, paying tribute to their tech deity, when he notices she isn’t alone. There’s a muscular man with impeccable eyebrows that is making her smile brighter than he’s ever seen, and when the man catches eye of Luke, he visibly stands taller and lifts his chin.

“You must be Alvez.”

“I am,” Luke confirms with a greeting nod. “Here’s your latte, Garcia.”

“Thank you, you are a _perfect gentleman.”_ She really enunciates those last two words, but she’s directing them to Mr. Eyebrows there, and Luke isn’t sure what to make of that.

Eyebrows moves closer, extending a hand to point down the hall. “Let’s take a walk.”

Luke glances at Garcia, but she’s already turned around and heading back into her office, so she’s offering no clues. Luke follows, “Okay, who are you?”

“You can think of me as Big Brother.”

“NSA?” Luke quips, but only half in jest. 

He doesn’t answer, just walks into an empty office and leans up against the desk, “They keep this office for me because I like to come by every once in a while and check up on things.”

This doesn’t seem like something a budget-conscious government entity would do, but Luke has no reason to argue. The office _has_ been empty since its former occupant left. Oh. “Oh, you must be Derek Morgan.”

“Have a seat,” Morgan points to the couch. It will put Luke significantly lower than him, giving Morgan the position of authority, which is a solid interrogation tactic. 

This doesn’t bother Luke. He relaxes into the cushions, posture open and easy. 

Morgan crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating every muscle involved in the process. “I hear you’re dating a very dear friend of mine.” 

“Ah, that’s what you meant by big brother. So, you’re here to make sure I’m good enough for him?”

Morgan nods, “I’ve been looking out for that kid since the day he joined. He is family to me.”

“Thank you,” Luke says sincerely. “This job is dangerous, I know I could have lost him before I even met him. Thank you, for having his back.”

“Yeah, well I’m not here anymore. Which means that job goes to you.”

Luke frowns. He’s about to argue with a self-appointed big brother, which isn’t the wisest decision, but he’s not about to talk about Spencer like he can't take care of himself. “He’s not a kid. We keep each other safe.”

Morgan smiles, the first friendly expression he’s offered Luke, and his approving nod lets Luke know he must have passed a test.

“Now is when you threaten my manhood if I ever hurt him,” Luke advises. At the raise of Morgan’s impressive eyebrow, Luke explains, “I grew up with two girls, and they would terrorize anyone I brought home. It was annoying at the time, but looking back, it’s just nice they cared that much, you know?”

Morgan slouches, leaning into a hip. His guard is dropping along with that intimidating pose. 

“They love Spencer, though. From day one. But who wouldn’t?” Luke’s face softens into a fond smile.

“You love him?”

“Yes!” Luke says with intensity, and then he huffs out a laugh because there’s no way such a simple word could contain how much. “I love him very much. He’s…” Luke’s brain fills with sugary sweet comments about his boyfriend, but he’ll save those for when they’re together. “There is no one like him.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty special.”

Luke lets himself gush a little, “The way his mind works! And all that he contributes to the team…” He looks around at the unclaimed desk chair and empty bookshelves, and smirks at Morgan, “I bet he could use an office.”

Morgan finds Spencer at his desk in the bullpen, scribbling away on a notepad when there’s a perfectly good computer inches away. Some things never change. 

“Pretty...Boy,” Morgan drags out, enjoying the jolt it gets out of the genius. 

Spencer spins around in his chair and leaps to his feet. He hugs tighter than Morgan remembers, more confidently. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to visit my Baby Girl, and now I’m inviting you out to lunch.”

“That would be great! It’s been too long.” He looks happy, happier maybe than Morgan has ever seen him. “Just let me make sure I have my phone…” Spencer pats his pockets, twirling to face his desk, and a hand flies out to clutch that electronic leash, raising it in triumph. “Got it!”

“Man, I do not miss those days,” Morgan laughs.

“So, how are Savannah and Hank?” Spencer asks as they cross the bullpen.

“Amazing. Savannah is the perfect mom and he’s just the happiest kid. I’ve got probably a thousand pictures to show you.”

“I can’t wait,” Spencer beams. 

Morgan guides them to his sedan, the child’s car seat in the back surrounded by small plush toys. Once they’re on the road, Spencer slips out his phone to attempt a discrete text to Luke letting him know why he’s disappeared.

“Who are you texting?” Morgan gently teases.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m just letting someone know where I went.” He aims for nonchalance and misses it by a good ten feet. That’s zero for two in just one car ride.

“I already told him I was taking you to lunch.”

“Him?”

“Yeah, about our height, dark hair, answers to Boyfriend?”

Spencer turns away but his blush is practically radiating off his cheeks. “Who told you?”

“Come on, now. You know I’ll never reveal my sources!”

Spencer’s thinking face looks almost like a scowl. “Garcia. You were just talking to her today.”

Morgan laughs, “You told Garcia and expected it to stay a secret?”

“No… I didn’t.” He thinks for maybe half a second before landing on the obvious, “JJ!”

“I think you’re missing the point here, Boy Wonder. You’ve got somebody who loves you. That’s great! I’m really happy for you.”

Spencer smiles shyly at his lap, “Thank you, Morgan.”

“In related news, a blonde little birdie told me you’re in the market for a rental.”

Spencer chuckles at the euphemism, “Yes, we are. I know we started looking in the worst time of year, but there have been a few places that at least seemed interesting.”

“Reid,” Morgan laughs, “I’m bringing it up because I have the perfect place for you.”

Spencer lifts excitedly in his seat, “What?”

“Yeah! You know I have properties! One just became available last week, twenty minutes from work, fenced-in quarter acre lot with a lawn, three bedrooms plus a den, and the best part, it’s two blocks from the library.” Morgan smiles smugly, knowing that one detail has sealed the deal. He knows his little brother well.

“Morgan, that’s amazing!”

“Next weekend you’re not on a case, you give me a call and I’ll show you the place. It’s move-in ready, so if you like it, it’s yours.”

“Thank you so much! I can’t even tell you how much this means.” Spencer’s phone chirps and his hand reaches for it on instinct. It’s a text, the kind they dread. “Oh no, we have a case.”

Morgan already has his blinker going for a U-turn. “That’s another thing I don’t miss.” 

The team gathers in the conference room, Garcia starting her presentation before half of them are even seated, “We have a suspected Angel Of Death in the Sunny Hills Assisted Care Facility down in Tampa, Florida. They seem to be targeting those with Alzheimers and Dementia and,” she clicks and images fill the screen, “smothering them with their own pillows…” 

Luke’s mind immediately goes to Diana Reid, suffering that same ailment in the same type of facility, and from the way Spencer’s fingers start twitching, Luke assumes he’s thinking about her, too. He takes the two steps that bring him behind Spencer’s chair and lays a casual hand on his shoulder, a professional form of comfort. 

Spencer reacts to his boyfriend’s touch automatically, wrapping his fingers around Luke’s and pressing his cheek into their joined hands. It’s a far more intimate act, one that can’t be explained as a Close Coworker Thing, and Tara notices.

Pen pointed at the couple, she smirks, “Is this common knowledge?”

Luke is ready, he watched this scene unfold with full awareness, but Spencer gasps at his own gaff.

“It isn’t supposed to be,” Prentiss chides with the tone of someone who stuck her neck out to keep this private.

“You boys have done it now!” Rossi sniggers.

“I can’t believe we did it again,” Spencer’s eyes are wide. “We’re actually bad at this.”

“I was just giving you a bro pat,” Luke defends with a laugh, but he isn’t pulling away, isn’t removing his hand from Spencer’s. They go down together.

“Oh good!” Garcia cheers. “That secret has been killing me!”

“You knew?” Luke is surprised.

“Yeah…” her face twists in guilt and sadness. It’s an intense reaction, except Luke connects the dots to the last intense sadness, to someone walking into that file room in Isleton while Spencer sobbed in his arms, and giving them their privacy.

“That was you…”

Garcia nods solemnly, but then perks right back up, “But now that it’s not a secret, I’d just like to say that you make a very nice couple, and I wish you many happy years together, and we should go on at least one double date.”

Spencer doesn't hear this, still too stunned, “I can’t believe I outed us.”

“Here,” Luke chuckles, “I’ll make us even.” He bends down and kisses Spencer on the cheek. It works to drag him from his stupor, a blush shining on his cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“Oh no,” Tara muses, “they’re cute.”

With a bright smile, Matt adds, “They play boardgames!”

“Guys, let’s get back to the case,” JJ uses her stern mom voice, but when Spencer sends a grateful glance her way her face softens. She’ll always have his back.

They solve the case, save a life, and take the killer into custody. They caught him in the act, they don’t need to assist in the interrogation, so they fly home, returning to the bullpen mid-morning. It’s shaping up to be a paperwork day when Garcia comes flying out of her office, hands dancing in the air and shoes sliding across thin carpet. Luke thinks this is the most cheerful she’s ever been to announce a serial killer.

“We have visitors!” she stops to say and she’s almost breathless with excitement. “They’re in the elevator now.” 

“Who is it?” Matt asks innocently enough.

Garcia immediately looks annoyed, saying like it’s obvious, “It’s a surprise.” The elevator dings and she claps her hands, “They’re here!”

A woman walks tentatively through the double doors, looking around in clear unfamiliarity. 

“Hi! Linda!” Garcia extends her hands in invitation, “Welcome!”

Linda’s face relaxes into a smile and she moves forward with confidence. Behind her comes Chief Deputy Woody Greyson, a large foil pan in his arms.

“Woody!” Luke leaps from his seat.

“Luke!” Woody makes a beeline for him, lifting the pan higher, “We kept this under a heating vent, so it’s still warm.”

“You brought the pot roast!”

“Well, I said I would!” Woody sets it down on Luke’s desk and they embrace, tight and reassuring. 

Luke pulls back, hands still on the man’s shoulders, “You look good!”

“You’re just saying that because I’m not actively bleeding from the head,” Woody laughs.

Luke laughs right back, “Well, yeah!”

“We just wanted to say thank you,” Linda approaches, two young women at her side. “This is Rachel, and Sarah.”

The sisters have their hands clasped for comfort and their smiles are shy. “You got our dad back to us,” Rachel starts, and Sarah finishes, “Thank you!”

Hand cupping the back of his neck, Luke clears some emotion from his throat, “Your dad, he guided us out of there. He got us home. I owe him my life.” He sends sincerity with my eyes and it looks like Woody is about to shrug this off with some self-deprecating joke so Luke keeps going. “He bragged on you girls, told me how smart you both are, just like your mom. Sarah, you’re about to graduate high school? And Rachel, you’re already in college? He said he couldn’t ask for a better family. Your dad is really proud of you.”

Both daughters smile at Woody, “We know.” 

Luke looks around at everyone watching them, politely standing at a slight distance. “I’d like to introduce you to my team. This is Matt Simmons, he’s solved crimes all over the world. And Dr. Tara Lewis, she’s a forensic psychologist. I think you already know Penelope Garcia, but she is our queen of all things technology. And then there’s Emily Prentiss, our brilliant leader, and Jennifer Jureau, she’s gonna run this place when Prentiss becomes the director. That’s David Rossi, he started the Behavioral Analysis Unit back in the day, and then there’s Dr. Spencer Reid.” He pauses a moment to figure out how to describe him, then lands with pride on, “He’s our resident genius.”

Linda’s brows lift at that last one and she casually steps back until she’s next to Spencer. “Oh,” she turns to him, as if just remembering, “I left the cake in the car. Would you mind escorting me? I’d hate to get lost.”

“Sure,” Spencer leads her to the elevator, letting her in first when the doors open.

Once they’re alone, Linda turns to him with a serious expression, “I imagine we’re the only two people in the world who know what we went through.”

Spencer’s nose twitches and his eyes fill with sympathy. 

“I love that man, but what he puts me through with that job of his? I tell you what… But I couldn’t be prouder.”

Spencer nods because no description could ring truer. 

“Your Luke? He saved my husband.”

Spencer’s voice is small, but his gratitude fills his whole being, “Your husband saved my boyfriend.”

Linda sniffles, blinking rapidly. “Spencer? Could I hug you?”

“Yes,” Spencer opens his arms in invitation. Her hug is sweet and comforting, sweet tea on a porch swing. 

They separate with the ding of the elevator doors. Linda walks briskly, not one to waste time, and they arrive at a champagne minivan, lift gate covered in Proud Parent bumper stickers. Linda lifts it open to reveal the plastic container holding her homemade confection. “Let me just check the frosting before I present this…” She removes the lid. The cake is decorated in green and blue icing to create a river scene.

Spencer’s brow furrows as he stares at the sugary depiction of the very waterway that nearly took Woody and Luke’s lives, “What…”

“Don’t ask,” Linda replaces the lid and lifts her hands up to accept no fault. “It was his idea. I love that man but his sense of humor is just twisted.”

Spencer laughs. That’s another thing their guys have in common. “Would you like me to carry that?”

“Oh, no, Honey,” she lifts the cake with one hand and closes the door with her other. “I just asked you along to chit chat. I know your personal life is private, but you and I have a certain shared understanding, and I wanted to reach out.”

“Thank you. It… It was hard, at first..”

Linda’s eyes go distant, “Yes it was… But they’re fine now, they’re here, and they’re waiting for cake.”

When Woody sees his wife set the cake next to his pot roast, he pokes an elbow into Luke’s side, “Go check the cake out.”

“All right,” Luke walks over, ready to be amused. Linda removes the lid and he comes face to face with the Wilderness from Hell. “Is that the Pamunkey River?”

“Yep,” Woody puffs out his chest, “that’s the Pamunkey.”

Luke has to hold his belly he laughs so hard.

The Greysons head out after their pot roast lunch, leaving the leftovers for Luke to take home, and it’s not until they’ve left the building that Luke notices an envelope on his desk. His name and title are scrolled in neat cursive. He removes the letter and begins to read: 

_“Dear Agent Alvez,_

_We can not express how grateful we are that you saved our dad.”_

Luke immediately folds the note and slides it back into the envelope. He can’t read this here, won’t be able to contain the emotions left so close to the surface after their visit. He saves it for home, when he and Spencer are seated on the couch, second helpings of pot roast scraped clean from their plates. Luke holds the letter gently, reverently, and Spencer leans into his shoulder to read with him.

_“Dear Agent Alvez,_

_We can not express how grateful we are that you saved our dad. He’s our hero. Through every struggle our family has ever had, he’s been our rock. Our parents have the kind of fairy tale romance we hope for ourselves, and you’ve given them a chance at a happy ending. We get to wake up every day knowing our dad is still with us because of you. He’s going to be here to cut down the ugliest Christmas tree we can find, to sing happy birthday off-key, and to buy our mom roses three days before Valentine’s Day because he still thinks it will be a surprise. We hope you can come for our 4th of July BBQ, where Dad makes his famous tri tip. Dad thinks he’s going to forget to tell you, but you get free drinks for life over at Buddy’s (formerly Roscoe’s, now under new ownership, for obvious reasons)._

_Having our dad in the hospital was hard, but he’s home now, and he even made mom breakfast in bed this morning. We’re going back to the way we were as a family and it’s your act of bravery that gave us this chance. Thank you. You are a hero._

_Rachel & Sarah Greyson” _

Spencer reads it far quicker than Luke, but he waits for his boyfriend to finish before responding with an emotional, “Whoa.”

Luke nods slowly, at a loss for words. He knows he’s saved people before, knows what it means to rescue a victim, but he only ever sees them and their families on the worst day of their lives, when they’ve just suffered the worst trauma imaginable. He’s never been blessed with a glimpse at what comes after, when the family becomes whole again. It’s a lot to convey, and he just turns his face and presses his forehead gently into Spencer’s.

Spencer’s whisper is filled with immense pride as he echoes the letter, “Luke, you’re a hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, California is opening back up which means my life will be getting busier. There might be some single-update weeks ahead, but this story is still the majority of my free time, so I may not get as behind as I fear. I tend to write about a thousand words a day, which is a pretty slow pace considering the vast amount of time I have to myself, but that means a 6000 word chapter (like this baby) takes a friggin week to pop out. But I love every minute of my typey typey time, so this is not a "sorry guys it might be a while" note, but a "I'm not a fast writer, I only pretend to be by writing chapters ahead of my post dates and my long chapters of late have eaten into my lead" confession. 
> 
> Thank you for coming back every time I update! It feels like a social gathering in my favorite world and you all give this life. Please stay healthy!


	37. Home

The drive to Stafford is precisely twenty minutes, and Morgan is waiting for them on the porch of their potential new home, which of course means, as Spencer is excited to point out, “It has a porch.”

“I like porches,” Luke admires. It also has a white picket fence surrounding a manicured lawn. Beneath the front window is a framed bed for springtime flowers. It’s two stories of happy yellow paint and plantation shutters. They step out of the car, swinging open the garden gate to walk up the flagstone path.

“This place is beautiful!” Spencer praises, because when you’re doing business with a friend, you need no guile. Apparently.

“Wait until you see the inside,” Morgan brags, dangling the keys enticingly. He unlocks the door, letting them through before typing on the alarm keypad. The entryway is tiled, keeping clean the beige carpet that begins a few meters in. Morgan toes off his shoes so Luke and Spencer do the same, padding softly to the first room. A pair of double doors opens up to a rectangle with white walls. It requires a lot of imagination to view an unfurnished home. There’s one large window facing the front yard that streams in sunlight. “This can be your den, study, office, whatever you’d like it to be,” Morgan rattles off. 

They both nod, understanding but not really visualizing the concept. They follow Morgan out to the great room with a luxurious kitchen and a view out to the backyard. This catches both of their full attentions as their thoughts go to Roxy. “She’s gonna be able to run around for hours out there,” Luke smiles through the window.

Spencer scoots in close to gaze out with him, “There’s ample room to play fetch.”

“And still plant that garden.”

Excitement bubbles through Spencer, “I did some research, and kumquats won’t grow well in this climate, but blackberries will.”

“Ooh, I love blackberries.”

“That is,” Spencer turns to Morgan, “would it be okay if we planted a garden back there?” Neither of them has rented a home with land before, and it’s only occurring to them now that there are going to be unique rules.

Morgan just shrugs, “Sure.” He’s not going to enforce any Leave It As You Find It rules on these particular tenants.

Luke takes a step back to eye the back door, “What about a doggy door? Could we put one of those in?”

“Have you ever installed one before?” Morgan asks.

Luke tosses out a hand, “How hard could it be?”

“No, you will not put in a dog door.” There’s humor in Morgan’s eyes, but his tone leaves no room to argue. “I’ll be back tomorrow to do that.” He gets matching grateful smiles for that.

“Now, this fireplace here is gas, which means no chopping wood. You just flip this switch and instant cozy fire.” He demonstrates, igniting the warm flickering glow. “Nice, right?” 

“Very much so,” Spencer steps into the radiating heat, hands extended. 

Morgan turns the flames off, moving on with the tour, “All right, so off the garage over here is the laundry room. The previous tenant left their machines, but I can haul them off if you want to get your own. Now this back here used to be a deck with a big hole where a hot tub used to be. I just got rid of that, laid down some foundation, and added a sunroom.”

With two whole walls of windows, they can see the back of the house and the rest of the yard, but the fence keeps it private from the neighbors.

“This would make a perfect weight room,” Luke smiles, a plea in his eyes toward his boyfriend.

Spencer smiles right back, “And the den could be a library?”

“Deal!”

There’s a powder room below the stairs, which Luke immediately thinks of as the Harry Potty room and he’s very excited to share this joke with Spencer, but maybe not in front of Morgan.

“It’s a four bedroom with two full baths upstairs,” Morgan climbs up ahead of them, “and while one of the rooms is on the smaller side, they all have good-sized closets, and the master is huge.” He takes them into the smallest room, which has soft billowing curtains.

“Oh,” Luke realizes, “it’s a nursery.”

Morgan has been in real estate long enough to neither confirm nor deny that description, taking them through the larger bedrooms. “This bathroom has a skylight, and there’s natural light in both the bathroom and closet in the master.”

The master is, indeed, much larger than either of them have ever lived in, and Spencer does a quick visual calculation. They could technically put both their beds side by side along the main wall and create a King And Queen Bed, which would take a full six seconds to roll across, but that would be ridiculous. It’s still nice to know they could. 

“The attic access is through the closet, which as you can see is a nice sized walk-in, and that’s the place. I can show you the garage on our way out, but it’s a standard two-car with a water heater and a workbench. I’ve got the lease down in the car. Talk it over, and I’ll be right back.” Morgan hoofs it out of there to give them privacy.

He’s barely out of earshot when Spencer declares, “I love it.”

“Me, too” Luke agrees whole-heartedly. “It’s great. It’s  _ huge…” _

“Is it too much?” Spencer asks quickly like it’s at the forefront of his mind, surrounded by happy thoughts but still blaring an alarm. “We’re just two people, and we’ve been sharing a one bedroom.”

“Roxy’s never had a lawn before. That would be pretty nice.”

“True.”

“We’d have enough room to host whole families.”

Spencer’s face softens, “That would make it easier for you to see your family.”

Luke steps in close to hug his boyfriend, pressing a kiss into his temple, “I want this home with you. I want to make a life with you here.”

“I want that, too.” Spencer kisses him, quick and excited, and he pulls back to smile brightly at him, but he’s just too happy and he needs to kiss him again. Luke laughs happily against his lips and he giggles back.

“Is that a yes?” Morgan asks from his cool cat perch against the doorframe.

Spencer makes an embarrassed squeak in his throat at the discovery of their audience, so Luke takes over, “We should probably take a look at the contract before we get too invested, but this place is great. That renovation you did really improved the house.”

“Oh, I rebuilt this place from the studs,” Morgan says proudly. He deserves to brag; his work is of the highest standard. “Which means, if you need anything repaired, please come to me. I don’t want some cheap contractor coming in here and messing up my work. Here, Kid, you can read this faster than either of us,” Morgan hands over the contract.

Spencer flips through the eight pages and frowns, shaking his head. “Morgan, we can’t. That’s too low; that’s less than half the average price for this area.”

Morgan dismisses his concern with a raised hand, “Don’t worry about it, Reid. Let me do this for you. Both of you.” He nods at Luke, holding eye contact long enough to convey respect.

Spencer isn’t convinced, “This is your livelihood, Morgan, I can’t take advantage of that. Little Hank Spencer needs to go to a good college.”

“Reid. I think you’re forgetting my wife is a doctor. Hank is gonna be fine,” Morgan laughs. “This is more than the mortgage and property taxes, I’m still making a profit off of you, don’t you worry.”

Luke leans in to take a peek at this price that caused such a stir and his eyes widen. He looks to Morgan, surprise still evident, “First dinner we host is in your honor.”

Packing their own homes means Spencer and Luke are apart for longer than they’ve been since they started dating, but excitement speeds them along, and they connect through texting. 

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I found a replica sonic screwdriver I didn’t know I had! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Did you pack it or are you playing with it? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I found it an hour ago. It is now packed. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Packing my kitchen first made for an excellent excuse to have pizza for dinner all week. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ How does this change things? You don’t cook. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Untrue. I lived on my own for years, so I do cook. It’s just terrible and I would never inflict that on you. Because I love you. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I think a third of my boxes are your things. It was pretty sly of you to half move in before we had to pack. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ It would have been a lot slier if I hadn’t kept an extra set of everything here. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ How many things do you have? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ That depends on how you qualify a thing. If you count each container as an individual thing, I have 47 things in this bathroom. I would have to unpack to calculate the rest. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Spencer. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ That would be a terrible idea. I’ll get back to you with an accurate count once we’ve moved. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I need you to calculate how many trips it would take me to move all these boxes with my Subaru. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ For the joy of equations? We’re hiring movers.  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ But all of my things are in boxes now.  _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Are you telling me you’re done? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ You’re not? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ No! It’s been four nights and we were in North Dakota for one of them! How are you done? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Would you like help? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Yes! Yes please! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Mind if I bring Roxy? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Best case scenario: she destroys something, and I no longer have to pack it. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ You sound like you haven’t eaten. I’ll bring food. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Thank you. _

Luke shows up with an excited dog and two Vietnamese sandwiches, “First, we are going to stop and eat these. Then, I’ll help you pack.”

Spencer rakes his fingers through his hair, “But it’s after ten and we have to be at work in the morning.”

“We take five minutes to eat,” Luke presses, “and then we’ll pack.”

“Okay,” Spencer nods, letting out a long breath. “Okay, you’re right.” He opens his arms and Luke completes the hug, bag of food hanging over Spencer’s back. “Thank you so much for coming. Packing is stressful.”

Luke kisses his forehead and Spencer melts into him. “It’ll be better when we tag team it.”

“You make everything better.”

“You, too. I thought I was going to miss my apartment, but without you in it, it’s just walls.”

“That’s really nice to hear.” Spencer tightens the hug, “I think I needed this more than anything.”

“Me too. This and food. Let’s eat.”

Saturday morning, Luke brings Roxy down to Janie’s with her bowl and a fully prepared meal in a Ziploc bag, “I’m gonna miss having you this close.”

“Stafford isn’t too far!” Janie assures, taking Roxy’s leash. “I can still watch her when you’re away, at least until you find someone local.”

“Thank you, Janie. For everything, as always.” Luke turns to his receding pooch, “You be good, Rox!”

“She always is,” Janie assures. “I have a client out that way this evening. Mind if I drop Roxy off around 4:00?”

“That would be great!” Luke was expecting to have to return to get his dog, and on top of moving, that was a lot to handle, so this is an amazing turn of events. “Thank you! Again!”

“I’ll see you then!” 

A team of movers hauls every last belonging out of their old apartments and into a single large truck. Each in their own car, they follow that truck over to their new home. Their boxes are labeled by room: Bedroom, Bathroom, Kitchen, Living Room, Den. This leaves most of their new home empty, but these rooms get cardboard mountains. Their beds are reassembled, Luke’s in the master and Spencer’s in the next room over. Bookshelves are lined along the den walls along with Spencer’s desk, and Luke’s living room furniture becomes a reading area. Spencer’s comfy couch and chairs are placed near the fireplace, roughly where they’ll stay while they still work out logistics. Luke’s small dining set looks hilarious in their ample dining area, but it’s all they have right now.

And then, they’re left alone in their new home with their many, many boxes.

_ Jennifer Jureau —> Spencer Reid & Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ How’s move-in day, boys? _

_ Spencer Reid —> _ _   
_ _ We have so many cups. _

_ Luke Alvez —> _ _   
_ _ And blankets. Apparently we both really like blankets. _

_ Jennifer Jureau —> _ _   
_ _ Come Springtime, a garage sale might be a nice way to meet the neighbors ;-) _

_ Spencer Reid —> _ _   
_ _ I’m not sure any of these have value. _

_ Luke Alvez —> _ _   
_ _ You’d better be talking about your cups. _

_ Spencer Reid —> _ _   
_ _ Of course. _

_ Jennifer Jureau —> _ _   
_ _ Are you texting each other from the same house? _

_ Spencer Reid —> _ _   
_ _ This place is actually so big I don’t know where Luke is right now. _

_ Luke Alvez —> _ _   
_ _ I’m in the guest room. This closet is for overflow blankets until we get control of the hoard. _

_ Spencer Reid —> _ _   
_ _ Which one is the guest room? _

_ Jennifer Jureau —> _ _   
_ _ You two are hilarious! _

A picture comes through of Spencer and Luke seated before a wall of boxes.

_ Spencer Reid → _ _   
_ _ Hypothetically, how much of this would we have to have put away before you’d be willing to visit? _

_ Luke Alvez →  _ _   
_ _ We’re excited to share this place with you! But we never want to open another box again in our lives.  _

_ Jennifer Jureau → _ _   
_ _ It sounds like you could use an unpacking party :-) _

_ Spencer Reid → _ _   
_ _ An unpacking party? Is that a real thing? _

_ Luke Alvez → _ _   
_ _ We will order you any food you can think of! _

_ Jennifer Jureay → _ _   
_ _ The boys have requested pizza. We’ll be there in an hour. _

“She is a saint,” Luke sighs, already feeling his body relax.

“The Saint of Lost Motivation,” Spencer mumbles, dropping against Luke’s side. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap.”

Luke chuckles, “You do that.” He leans back into the heft of their unpacked belongings, bringing up a hand to pet Spencer’s hair as he slips into slumber.

The doorbell wakes them both, throwing them into consciousness with sharp breaths and bleary blinks. 

“The door is a mile away,” Luke groans, shoving himself to his feet.

Spencer follows close behind, stumbling slightly around the pins-and-needles sensation in his right leg. “We forgot to order them pizza.”

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Luke spins around, “Do I have drool on my face?”

“No?” This catches Spencer off-guard, but then his eyes widen, “Do I?”

Luke shakes his head, “We’re good.” The door opens, and Roxy trots inside. “Janie, hi!” He tries to make it a pleasant greeting, but surprise is the starring emotion. 

A loud beep startles them both. “The alarm!” Spencer remembers, rapid fingers on the keypad silencing the obnoxious sound.

“Still getting used to the place?” Janie laughs from the porch.

“Yeah,” Luke scratches the back of his neck, stepping out of the doorway. “Would you like to come in?”

“Actually, this is more of a drive-by drop-off. I’ve got another pup in the car, but if you have a spare key I can take it now, and you can just text me the alarm code when you need me to take her.”

“Oh, sure!” Luke digs into his pocket to pull out his own key ring, twisting the house key off of it. He knows there are more copies, somewhere, and worst case scenario they can make a copy of Spencer’s. Who knew square-footage could complicate things this much? “Thank you so much for bringing her all the way over here.”

“Not a problem! Have a good day, you two!”

“You, too, Janie!” It’s the first thing Spencer has said to her, but the visit was especially brief.

“Bye, Janie,” Luke closes the door, then twists around the scan the room. “Where is Roxy?”

“Oh… She could be anywhere. Roxy!” Spencer heads toward the kitchen.

Luke calls up the stairs, “Roxy!”

“The dog door!” Spencer remembers. They speed over to the windows for a view out back, and there Roxy is, exploring for the first time Her Backyard. Spencer turns excited eyes to Luke, “Where are our shoes? I want to join her.”

“I think we put them in the closet.” They look up at the ceiling, at how far they have to travel to obtain  _ shoes, _ and head up. They can only find one coat, a sweatshirt in one of the open boxes. “You can take it,” Luke hands it over.

“It’s yours,” Spencer shakes his head, but he can already imagine that December chill through his thin shirt.

Luke pushes the sweatshirt against Spencer’s chest, “You get cold. It’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Spencer gives Luke’s cheek a quick, grateful peck and pulls on the cozy cotton. 

Roxy is very excited to share Her Backyard with them, running toward them once they step outside, then sprinting away, the universal canine request to be chased. They oblige, rushing across the lawn, weaving as she dodges. She’s impressively good at evading capture, or perhaps they are just comically bad hunters, but she’s wagging and they’re laughing, so the game is a success.

“I think she likes it here!” Spencer laughs as Roxy slips between Luke’s legs.

Their breaths are visible in the air, a frigid gust whipping through. Luke rubs his bare arms, “I’m cold.”

“Let’s get you back inside. Come on, Roxy!”

Roxy is far more interested in a squirrel hopping along the fence, staring with fascination at the potential living toy. They leave her to her play. 

“Here,” Spencer clicks on the fireplace, and the flames burst to life with an airy roar. “Come warm up.”

Luke’s lips twist into a sly smile, “I’d rather you warmed me up.”

“Oh?” Spencer slowly slides his arms low around Luke’s waist, pressing their bodies together. “How’s this?”

In the glow of the fire, Luke kisses him, the languid mingling of breath heating up as their tongues slide against each other. Luke’s breath hitches, his fingers finding skin below Spencer’s shirt, and they’re just cool enough to excite. With a breathy moan, Spencer pushes deeper.

The doorbell rings, loud as it bounces against empty walls.

“JJ.” Realization smacks Spencer. “We still haven’t ordered pizza!”

Luke pulls away, dragging a hand through his hair, “We’re very bad hosts.”

“Hopefully the house makes up for it.”

“You mean the charm of our boxes?”

Spencer opens the door, and the alarm wasn’t reset so it doesn’t yell at them this time. That thing will take getting used to. “Hi! Thank you for coming! Welcome!” Spencer didn’t land on a greeting, so they all come out.

“This place is cute!” JJ comes in for a hug. “Who knew Morgan had it in him?”

“Uncle Luke!” Henry shouts, and Luke reacts just in time to catch him as he launches into the air.

“Hey, Henry!”

Michael is, of course, quick to follow, and Luke gets them both up in his arms, “Are you two ready to help us organize?”

Michael responds to tone more than message and squeals a giddy, “Yeah,” but Henry is wiser with age and gives a dubious look.

The sound of clapping plastic announces Roxy has decided to join the commotion, and as soon as she enters visual range, Henry wiggles against Luke’s hold to be let down. He lowers both boys to the floor, and dog and children rush to greet each other. “She was just getting to know her brand new backyard. It’s a very important job for a dog.”

Henry gasps excitedly, “Can we help?” Pleading eyes dart between his parents.

“I’ll take them,” Will offers. “Come on, Boys, let’s go exploring!”

JJ places a hand on both Luke and Spencer’s shoulders, “All right, where should we start?”

“The kitchen,” they answer in unison. It’s definitely the most intimidating of their piles. The fun part is that they both had fully stocked kitchens, and it didn’t occur to either of them to purge some small appliances before being forced to pack them all, and now they have two kitchens boxed up in a single home. JJ digs through boxes, pairing up their surplus on the counter for comparison: two toasters, two coffee grinders, two teapots, two dish drainers, two fruit bowls. 

JJ stops once she notices twin overwhelmed expressions on their faces. The last time Spencer moved, it was from a CalTech dorm room to his previous apartment, and Luke has never owned so many  _ things. _ “You can make those decisions later. Some things are good to keep more of, like plates and silverware, oh and dry goods. We can start putting those away.”

Will comes back in, face rosy from the cold and a smile bright, “Roxy’s teaching the boys to play fetch.”

JJ sighs, sending her husband a knowing look, “We’re gonna need to get them a dog, aren’t we?”

“Afraid so, Darling.”

“Oh, we forgot to order the pizza!” Spencer realizes for the third time tonight. “I’m sorry, we can order it now. It shouldn’t take more than an hour to get here. If you’re hungry now I’m sure we can make something.”

“Spence, it’s fine. We haven’t even told you which toppings we want.” JJ is a beautifully forgiving soul. “In fact, we’re pretty picky, so I’ll go ahead and make the call. Spence, I know you like Veggie Supreme; how about you, Luke?”

“Anything is fine with me, but we’re paying.” 

“Oh, I know,” JJ says cheerfully.

By the time the pizza arrives, they’ve unpacked and flattened half the kitchen boxes, which makes the whole process seem much more approachable. They’ve even managed to narrow down some of their overstock, choosing Luke’s toaster and Spencer’s coffee grinder, and deciding two teapots is fine. The plates have been unpacked, set in the cupboard above the dishwasher, so they grab six of those and take the pizza boxes to the table. The incredibly small table.

“You’re gonna need to get you a new dining table,” Will advises, though it’s pretty obvious to them all.

JJ nudges Luke, taking the plates from his hand, “Go grab a blanket. We’ll have an indoor picnic.”

Roxy is laid out at the far end of the blanket, technically behaving, but she’s still close enough that if someone  _ chose _ to be generous with their food she could easily oblige them. Each boy takes an uncle: Michael sits in Spencer’s lap, dissecting a slice of pizza that Spencer is now decidedly finished with, and Henry lays against Luke’s thigh, letting toppings drop onto his shirt with each bite. 

“You making a mess there, Buddy?” Will notices his eldest lose a mushroom to gravity.

“No, I’m eating it,” Henry grabs the cheesy bit and plops it into his mouth, and there’s a red stain on his collar, but he’s at least making an attempt.

They leave after dinner, having to get the kids washed up before bed, and Luke and Spencer’s goodbye hugs linger with gratitude. 

Thanks to Henry, that not-actually-a-picnic blanket becomes their first laundry load, shoved into their new machine. Detergent. Luke needs to find the detergent and wonders if he put it in a Bathroom or a Bedroom box. Both are an entire house away. It’s a good twelve minutes of rummaging that gets him the bottle of Tide, and it's nearly empty because these are just things you don’t think about when moving, but the blanket is officially being washed. 

He’s lost Spencer. The man could be literally anywhere… Except he’s in the most obvious place, surrounded by books and happily sorting them into shelves. He looks adorable, smiling down at the titles like he’s welcoming them into the home. It’s probably exactly what he’s doing. Luke leaves him to it. This is the perfect opportunity for him to do a little something special for his boyfriend.

He just saw it when he was shoving things around in boxes, knows he can find it again. It’s under yet another unpacked blanket (do they just buy these things every time they’re cold?), perfectly protected in its frame. He bought picture hooks, a whole pack for this one project. He knows where the hammer is, found it when looking for his cell phone charger, so he’s ready.

Spencer is in the den for hours, but Luke is patient, finding projects to keep him nearby so he doesn’t miss the moment. 

Finally Spencer emerges with a countenance of contentment. Few things recharge him like books can. Luke hops to his feet, meeting him in the entry. He slides an arm around Spencer’s waist and turns him toward the door, “What do you think?”

Spencer inhales, fingers finding his lips. There, at eye level right between the door and window, is the poem Spencer scribed for Luke when he first told him he loved him. “Luke, I…  _ Luke.”  _ Spencer twists in Luke’s hold to capture his face in both hands and leans in for a kiss. His lips move with love before he can speak it, and he’s walking them sightlessly toward the living room. The words flow as a soft whisper between their mouths, “It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.”

Mismatched socks find carpet and Spencer takes a quick glance to find a path before bringing his lips back to Luke’s, “When two are stripped, long ‘ere the course begin, we wish that one should love, the other win; and one especially do we affect of two gold ingots, like in each respect: the reason no man knows, let it suffice, what we behold is censured by our eyes.”

They reach the couch and Spencer pressed a hand into Luke’s chest until Luke falls willingly onto the cushions. Spencer lays himself over him, dragging his nose along the sharp angle of Luke’s jaw until his teeth can nip his ear. “Where both deliberate, the love is slight: who ever loved that loved not at first sight?” 

Luke pulls Spencer’s face up so they can kiss again, his other hand stroking down his back, “I love you, Cariño.” He kisses down his throat until his lips find that spot where neck meets shoulder and gently sucks the flesh between his teeth. Spencer moans, his body trembling at the razor's edge between pleasure and pain, and Luke soothes him with soft lips.

Spencer pulls back, fingers finding the hem of Luke’s shirt and tugging until Luke helps him get it off. 

Luke lays back and gazes up at his boyfriend, “Are you gonna keep me warm?”

Spencer nods, pupils blown wide at the sight, and he yanks his own clothing off. Fingers and firelight dance across skin on their first night in their home.

Their cell phones are ringing somewhere. Luke reaches out toward his nightstand but finds the back of a couch instead. He opens his eyes. They’re in the living room, fire still flickering, their clothing tossed about the room. One of their many blankets is keeping them cozy, Spencer still sleeping on Luke’s chest. The cell phones give up, but Luke knows they’ll only ring again. There’s one reason for them to ring simultaneously, and that’s work.

Luke slides his hands along soft skin and instantly wishes they could just have this morning to themselves, but that’s not how their lives work. “Wake up time, Spencer.”

Spencer whines, burying his face between Luke’s side and the couch.

Luke laughs, “We’ve got to go be FBI agents, Dr. Reid.” He feels more than hears Spencer’s heavy sigh. 

Sitting up, Spencer drags his hands down his face to try and summon alertness. He rises, the blanket falling away, and they smile at each other when they remember last night. “We’re doing that again.”

“Oh yes,” Luke rises enough to get his arms around Spencer, pressing a kiss into his sternum. “All the time.”

They collect their clothing, slipping their phones from pants pockets so they’re ready when they next ring. Sure enough, their presence is required in an hour.

They stumble their way through a shower, sharing body wash because they could only find one, and then they pull clothing out of boxes. Luke gets Roxy’s breakfast going as Spencer makes coffee.

It’s a scramble to gather their things, but they help each other through it.

“Did you see my-”

“Yeah, it’s under the-”

“Right!”

“Oh, did you-”

“Yes, it’s right there.”

“Thank you!”

They rush to the door, and then Luke stops, turning to Spencer and pulling him in by his tie for a kiss. “I’m so glad we live together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have moved fourteen times in my life and not once was the process delightful. So, cheers to all who move frequently, or are moving, or who just have moved and it sucked. That counts, too. Thank you for reading! Thank you for leaving kudos and comments for me to fawn over. Thank you for joining me in my little world :-)


	38. Famous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm trying a thing in this chapter. Not sure it works like I want it to. Thank you, TobiasHankel, for your support with this chapter!

It begins with a simple question. They’re called in on a case in the middle of a gorgeous lazy day and as Luke drives them past the families spending the weekend together without a care in the world, he asks, “Do you ever wonder what it’s like?”

“What what’s like?” Spencer drags his gaze from the window to focus on Luke.

“To be the people who don’t have to deal with what we deal with? Who don’t have to face all the evil in the world?”

Spencer mulls that over in his mind, “I guess I don’t. Why?”

“Because they get a Saturday and we get a serial killer. Don’t get me wrong, I love our job. I just wonder, sometimes, what it might be like if we’d chosen… happier professions.”

“You would have been a famous baseball player,” Spencer smiles, “and I’d have stayed in academia.”

“The jock and the professor,” Luke chuckles.

“We probably wouldn’t have met,” Spencer considers aloud, and as soon as it’s out of his mouth he realizes he’s ruined the fantasy, so he backpedals. “Unless we were destined to find each other.”

Luke hums happily at the thought, “Your friends dragged you to one of my games, I saw you in the stands…”

“And I saw you and realized maybe baseball wasn’t so bad after all.”

“We’d have found each other,” Luke radiates confidence. “Twinkle twinkle, Spencer. We’re written in the stars.”

Their conversation moves along and this quickly slips from Luke’s mind, but Spencer remembers.

The house has the warm vanilla aroma of baked goods, and it has Luke following his nose to the kitchen. The smell still lingers, but there’s no sign of treats, or his boyfriend baker. There’s a knock at the door and he hopes this will magically summon Spencer, but the only footsteps in the house are Roxy’s.

Luke swings open the door, and there’s Spencer on the porch. Luke laughs, “Did you forget your keys or something?”

Spencer lifts his arm and hanging by two handles is a basket, the picnic basket from their first date. “Hi, I’m Mark Burman, and I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. There’s a rumor going around that you’re a pretty famous baseball player.” He’s wearing Luke’s old Yankees cap, and everything clicks.

A huge grin takes over Luke’s face. Spencer is roleplaying. It’s a good ten seconds before he can gain enough control over his expression to respond, but Spencer just waits patiently, basket still held high and face still holding that expression of pleasant cheer, like he’s paused on a TV show, waiting for Luke to be ready to play. “It’s nice to meet you, Mark. I’m Alex Gomez.”

“Hi, Alex. I hope you like blueberry muffins.” Spencer opens a flap to reveal at least a dozen of them. 

“They’re my favorite,” Luke answers honestly, and he watches Spencer for any clues on where he’s supposed to take this. Spencer bites his lip, like he’s nervous, and then his eyes flash over Luke’s shoulder before meeting his face again. “They look delicious. Would you like to come in and share them?”

Spencer smiles shyly, “Only if I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Luke steps to the side, letting Spencer in, a thrill tingling up his spine at what Spencer has planned.

“What a cute dog!” Spencer remarks at Roxy, who is watching them curiously. “Can I pet her?” 

Not privy to the script, Roxy bumps her head into Spencer’s outstretched hand, reminding him how this whole petting thing works because he’s clearly forgotten.

“Looks like she likes you!” They lock eyes to share the humor for a moment, then slip back into character. “Her name’s Roxy.”

“Hi, Roxy, my name’s Mark. But you can call me Bark.” His face lights up at his own joke.

Luke snorts, because it’s so terrible it’s great. “You’re funny.”

Spencer looks at him through his lashes, the barest hint of tongue wetting his lip, “Thank you.” He’s flirting. This is going to be very good.

“Would you like to bring those into the kitchen? I can make us coffee.” It’s probably safe at this point to admit that all those months ago, when Luke made them coffee on Spencer’s first visit, that it was an attempt at flirting that didn’t land. After all, they got there in the end.

“I love coffee.” Spencer follows him to the kitchen island, pretending not to know his way around, and sets the basket between the fruit bowls. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you, you’re welcome over any time,” Luke steps up next to him, eyeing the muffins, “especially if you bake.” Luke almost wraps an arm around Spencer’s waist, catches himself just as his hand ghosts over his back and immediately pulls away. He’s so used to touching, but Alex has never touched Mark, so Luke must refrain. He instead busies those hands with getting the coffee going.

Spencer leans back against the counter, putting himself in Luke’s eyeline, and grazes his knuckles down his own neck, drawing attention while appearing to not realize what he’s doing. “Alex, I have a confession. I know more about your career with the Yankees than I initially let on.”

Luke’s brows raise in intrigue, “You’ve heard of me, then?”

“Have I heard of the 2002 Rookie of the Year? The three time Cy Young Award Winner with two career no-hitters, including a perfect game in 2011? Who had an ERA of 2.07 in his third year, the lowest in the league, and then led the league in strikeouts three years later? Alex, I was there in Game 7 when they declared you the World Series MVP.”

That huge grin is back. Spencer learned baseball statistics for him. Oh, how he loves this man… “So, you like baseball?”

Spencer adds heat to his gaze, “I like parts of baseball.”

Luke could kiss him now and it would be completely in character, but only half the fantasy is playing out. “So, you know about me, I’d love to learn about you.”

Spencer strokes his index finger over the back of Luke’s hand, “What would you like to know?”

“Oh, I think I’d be very interested in anything you wanted to share with me.” He’s flirting right back now.

“I’m a professor of mathematics at Georgetown. It’s nothing exciting, mostly calculus.” Spencer stills his hand millimeters from Luke’s and he takes advantage, barely brushing his fingertips along Spencer’s knuckles and watching his breath hitch at the sensation.

“I’m sure you make it exciting, Mark.”

“Do you like math, Alex?”

“I like people who like math,” Luke steps intimately close, hand sliding up Spencer’s forearm to the crook of his elbow. 

Spencer’s expression turns shy, his eyes downcast as he nibbles on his bottom lip, “Do you think the coffee’s ready?” It’s only been thirty seconds since the percolator started gurgling, not nearly enough time to fill the pot, and if anyone knows how long it takes their coffee maker to brew, it would be Spencer. This is a hint:  _ slow down. _

Luke gladly accepts, taking a step backward and removing his hand, because this means there is more of this game to come. “I’ll get the mugs.” He chooses their favorite ones, with the Doctor Who theme and the appearing TARDIS, then reaches for the sugar. He stops himself, turns back to Spencer in contrived curiosity, “How do you take it?”

There’s a knowing glint in his eye but he answers as if for the first time, “With sugar, please.” He’s quiet as he watches Luke set up the mugs and a spoon, then his fingers dance at his throat again and he lets out a nervous chuckle, “I can’t believe I’m in your kitchen. Back when I taught at Columbia, I saw nearly every home game. I got season tickets. They were horrible seats, way up in the nosebleeds, but I was there the night you struck out Miguel Cabrera with the bases loaded and single-handedly turned the tide of the game. I don’t really watch TV, but when I moved down here, I got cable with a sports package just so I wouldn’t have to miss you play. I can confidently say I am your biggest fan.” 

Luke is blushing hot and he’s smiling too wide to talk again. Spencer is giving him the best fantasy life and he should be able to keep up but he didn’t have time to prepare, and this isn’t like going deep cover for the Fugitive Task Force. He doesn’t want to get lost in a role; he wants to appreciate what his boyfriend is doing for him as himself, but it’s hard to do that when he’s lost in his own thoughts. “I,” he squishes his smile, “can honestly say I’ve never been this flattered. If I’d seen you in those stands, I’d have given you better seats.” He can do better than that. “Though my pitching might have suffered from the distraction.” 

“Then I guess it’s good we didn’t meet until now.”

The coffee maker sputters its last drop and Luke gets to pouring. “Check this out,” he slides the mug over and taps where the time machine is starting to take shape. He gets to introduce this silly gimmick all over again. He can see Spencer fight back a laugh.

“Well, that is very neat.”

“I am very excited to try one of these muffins,” Luke announces, plucking one off the top. It has a sugar top, because Spencer knows that’s his favorite part, and a little cinnamon in the batter. He takes a bite and lets the sincere delight moan out of him. He makes sure to swallow before complimenting, “These are amazing.”

“Thank you.” Spencer’s bashful smile over the rim of his mug is adorable. 

Luke takes another bite of muffin, washing it down with coffee: the breakfast of champions. “Would you like to see more of the house?” 

Spencer lights up with an excited nod, “Of course I want to see the house of Alex Gomez!” He shouts, then bites his lip. “Sorry, it’s probably weird when I say your whole name like that.”

“No, I definitely like it,” Luke chuckles. He starts with the den, the first room of the house, and it’s so Spencer he doesn’t know how he’s going to claim it as Alex’s.

“Wow,” Spencer teases, “you must really like to read.”

Luke just goes with it, “Yeah, I must.”

Spencer looks at some of the titles and nods approvingly, “You have good taste.”

“I sure do,” Luke openly ogles him, looking him up and down in a way that can’t be misinterpreted, and when Spencer quickly turns away he knows he’s hiding a blush. “Come on, I know which room to show you next.” 

He leads the way to the sunroom, now officially a gym with a full set of weights by a padded bench and a treadmill. 

“So, this is where you work out,” Spencer is clearly interested, taking the equipment in. “I always wondered how you got your arms to look like… _ that.”  _ Spencer steps closer, eyes zeroed in on one of Luke’s biceps.

There’s a bark at the door, and Roxy is standing there with a ball in her mouth and an excited wag wiggling her whole body. She’s decided now is the perfect time for a game of her own. There’s no way Luke can let his pooch down when she’s asking like this, all hope and joy, so he sends an apologetic frown to Spencer and crosses his fingers that they can just press pause and pick this up later.

Spencer doesn’t even break character, “Can we play with your dog?”

“Yeah,” Luke laughs with relief, “she’d love that.”

“Good, I can’t wait to see your throwing arm in action.” He’s following Roxy to the back door before Luke can respond to that very clear flirtation. 

It is true that Luke has great arms, but it is equally true that his pitching is awful. He has no aim, and fast balls turn into curve balls completely at random. This is easy to disguise, however, when you’re playing catch with a dog. Every toss of the ball, Roxy acts like it was lobbed directly into her mouth, catching with precision and speed an in-fielder could only dream of.

“She’s a lucky dog,” Spencer commends when Luke sends the ball soaring high and Roxy leaps into the air to catch it.

There is no warning when Roxy is done playing; she simply catches her ball and instead of returning it, she trots inside through her dog door. They’ve both seen it a dozen times but it still makes them laugh.

“I guess I was winning,” Luke jokes, “so she just took her ball and went home.”

Spencer chuckles, then his face turns serious and he turns to face Luke. “Alex, this has been a dream come true for me, getting to meet you, seeing where you live, meeting your dog. I can’t thank you enough for being so nice to a fan like this, but could I try by taking you to lunch? Since I’m welcoming you to the neighborhood, maybe I could show you a great lunch place nearby? I think you’ll really like it.” He acts nervous, like he thinks Alex might actually say no, so Luke answers with enthusiasm and speed.

“That’d be great! Thank you, I’d love that!”

“Yeah?”

“Of course!”

“Great! Umm,” Spencer flails a bit nervously, trying to point at the front yard as if he isn’t sure which direction it’s in, “my car is out front. I can drive us.” Sure enough, Spencer’s Volvo is parked at the curb, which means he went to the trouble of driving it out of the garage before this started, and Luke is impressed at the forethought. 

Being driven by Spencer is a rare treat. Passenger Spencer is often introspective, allowing his mind to rush with the speeding blur out his window, but Driver Spencer has to be more focused, and a focused Spencer is a facty Spencer. Luke has learned more about cars from the passenger seat of this Volvo than any issue of MotorTrend could hope to convey. It appears Mark is a similar character in that regard, but with neighborhood trivia.

“This gas station is seventy-three years old, but has only changed ownership four times.”

Luke has no idea how Spencer already knows this, but he’s learned not to be surprised.

“They’re repairing the gazebo in that park to your right. Every year Stafford holds an Easter Egg Hunt there for children under twelve. That’s the library across the street, and the building with a clocktower is the Stafford Gazette, which still prints weekly papers every Sunday. I’m subscribed.” It’s a charming town with a real Main Street America feel, which is not at all what they are used to, but they’re still only an hour from DC if they need more vibrancy. 

Spencer pulls into the parking lot of Jerseys Grill and when they step inside Luke immediately understands the name: the walls are absolutely covered in signed sports jerseys. A quick glance shows him Mia Hamm’s White #9, Michael Jordan’s Red #23, and Peyton Manning’s Orange #18. “They must spend half their budget on Ebay.”

Spencer talks with the hostess and Luke follows to their table, still catching sports legends: Wayne Gretzky, Lisa Leslie, LaBron James, Jerry Rice… The sizeable bar area is split between basketball and hockey fans, with a few couples in the corner watching the Chiefs game. It’s loud, the roar of televised fans mixing with beer-loosened cheers, but the noise starts to die down when they’re sat away from the screens. “Nice choice,” Luke commends, still scanning the jerseys.

“I’m glad you like it,” Spencer sounds shy, which is surprising, so Luke puts his full attention on him to see he’s scratching at the nape of his neck and chewing his bottom lip. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when it hits him: in all the excitement, he forgot they were playing a game. He was just Luke with his Spencer, but Spencer Reid does not forget. “If you’re, umm, wondering where your jersey is, they had it hanging here, next to Derek Jeter’s, but last year, I… I bought it.” He laughs self-consciously, “It’s hanging over my mantle. I never thought I’d get a chance to actually meet you.”

It’s a very nice touch, including Alex Gomez in this world without forcing them to pretend to see something that isn’t there. Luke is going to have to remember all these details to praise Spencer over later. Right now, though, he’s Alex, and Alex is flattered. “Well, that is something I’d like to see. Maybe after you show me a place around here for a fancy dinner? My treat, of course.”

Spencer drops his jaw, nodding wide-eyed until he seems to catch himself, smiling bashfully. “That would be amazing.”

Luke leans forward, gazing into Spencer’s eyes, “You have a very nice smile.”

Spencer’s features round with emotion, visibly affected by the compliment, and this is when their waitress chooses to approach.

“How are you two gentlemen doing? My name is Sue and I’ll be your server this afternoon.” Her customer service smile doesn't waver as she hands them their menus. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Luke watches his boyfriend to see if they’re involving strangers in this game, which might complicate things if they plan to return here as themselves someday.

“I would like iced tea, please,” Spencer smiles sweetly up at Sue, then turns to Luke. “Do you like iced tea, Alex?” 

Luke really doesn’t. “Water is fine. Thank you, Sue.”

“Sure thing, Hon. Is this your first time with us?”

“Yes, I just moved to the neighborhood, and Mark here is showing me around.”

Sue juts her hip toward Spencer, like she’s pointing at him but her fingers are too busy with her pen and notepad, “Thank you for choosing Jerseys! I’ll give you a minute to look those menus over and I’ll be right back with your drinks.” There’s a bounce to her step, like she can almost float on her own cheery disposition.

“This menu is half bacon,” Spencer reports, setting it down.

“Looks like the dinner entrees come with creamed spinach,” Luke says just to see the involuntary grimace flash across Spencer’s face. It looks like Mark inherited his distaste for the vegetable.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Spencer starts, “I’ve watched you play for years now, but what was it like actually being down there on that mound, with so many fans cheering for you?”

Luke smiles at his boyfriend over the menu. He’s imagined this scenario enough over the past nearly four decades that the answer comes easily, “It was weird, when I was ready to pitch, I couldn’t hear it. It was just me and that ball, getting it past the bat to that catcher’s mitt. I’d feel the ball and I’d just see where it needed to be. Then as soon as I threw it, the crowd would be this rushing roar all around me. It was a thrill.” 

Spencer is enraptured, and Luke would feel silly pretending like this if his boyfriend weren’t so fully committed. “That sounds amazing.”

Luke’s eyes go distant a moment before he shakes his head, “It was a game. A game I love, but this? Getting to meet someone like you is amazing."

Sue sets down their drinks with heavy glass clunks. “You two decide what you’d like?”

“I’d like the turkey burger, please,” Spencer slides his menu to the edge.

Sue scribbles that down, “One gobbler, got it.”

“And I’ll have the chicken caesar wrap, please.”

“And a chicken toga.” She flaps her notebook closed and grabs up their menus. “Those will be out in just a bit.”

“So tell me about teaching,” Luke prompts. “Those are some prestigious schools you’ve taught at. You must be pretty smart.”

Spencer shrugs, “I’ve just always enjoyed math. I was on the Mathletes in high school, and we made it all the way to the championships my junior year. I assumed I’d be a number cruncher somewhere, but part of getting my Master’s was teaching Calculus 101, and it just felt right.”

“You must have some lucky students.”

“I’m sure they wish I assigned less homework. I actually use your batting average in my statistical analysis course.”

They continue to share facts about their characters (Mark’s parents are retired in Florida and Alex rents out his New York penthouse on Airbnb) until the check arrives, and they’re back in Spencer’s car. He drives them back a bit slowly, parking again at the curb. He stares out the windshield a moment, bolstering himself, and then he turns a shy smile Luke’s way, “Meeting you was everything I hoped it would be.”

“You know, it’s pretty cold out here,” Luke lays his hand on Spencer’s forearm. “Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Spencer stares in hopeful disbelief, “Yes.”

“Great.” Luke hops out of the car, waiting on the sidewalk for Spencer to rush around the bumper to meet him. Roxy is happy they’re home, greeting them with sleepy blinks and a full-body wag. “Roxy, you remember Bark.” The dog doesn’t care what they’re called so long as they scratch her behind the ears.

“That’s a really nice fireplace you have there,” Spencer smiles, hinting.

“I should give you a better look,” Luke beckons with his eyes before guiding the way. He clicks on the fire, admiring the way the golden light plays over Spencer’s features. His jacket falls away with a single shrug and he steps toward Spencer, hands raised to project his intention, before clutching one end of that purple scarf and pulling it away. It drags tantalizingly along the back of Spencer’s neck, and Luke can see him arc slightly into the sensation. The scarf comes away and Luke folds it over a few times, setting it neatly on the chair beside them. Delicate fingers pull the coat open and he slides his hands along Spencer’s chest, out over his shoulders, and down his arms until the coat falls away. He catches it before it hits the ground, hanging it over the armrest. Luke pulls the ballcap up by its brim, smiling at the line its left in Spencer’s curly hair, and he can feel his boyfriend’s intent gaze as he gently places it atop the scarf.

Luke steps back, taking Spencer in as if for the first time. “You’re breathtaking.”

Spencer’s breath shakes in his lungs, and Luke loves that he can do that, can send quakes through his being with a single compliment. 

Reaching forward, Luke grasps his hand, “Come sit with me.” He drops into the closest cushion, inviting Spencer to sit close, their thighs touching. With a gentle hand on Spencer’s cheek, he coaxes his face toward him, sliding his thumb up and down the smooth skin. “I could look at you for hours.”

Warm breath puffs over Luke’s palm. “I’ve watched you for years.” Their gazes are locked, and they’ve become the only two objects in the universe. 

“It was hard retiring. I still love the sport, wake up every morning missing it, but now? Everything in my life feels like it’s been leading me to you.”

Spencer’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and he’s staring at Luke’s mouth, “I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate, sliding his hand around the back of Spencer’s head and bringing their lips together. It’s warm and soft and thrilling, tingles dancing down their spines just like every time, but for Mark and Alex, this is their first kiss. They open up to each other, tongues and breaths mingling, and they share a moan. 

Spencer wraps his fingers around Luke’s bicep and squeezes. His other hand rests against Luke’s chest, thumb stroking his throat.

Luke pulls back just enough to pant against Spencer’s lips, “Did it meet expectations?”

“Better,” Spencer sighs, a smile in his voice. “If this is a dream, don’t let me wake up.”

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

“Enough for you to kiss me again?”

Luke pours passion from his lips and Spencer melts against him, breathy sounds of pleasure trapped between them. 

Spencer moves lower, sucking kisses down Luke’s jaw to his neck. His voice comes out a throaty whisper, “I’ve dreamed of this, Alex. Wanted you for so long.”

“You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met.”

Spencer tongues that spot below Luke’s ear and Luke throws back his head to give him more access. “You’ve dated celebrities.”

Luke loops his arms around Spencer’s waist and plants a kiss on his temple, “And now I’ve finally found someone who makes me happy.”

“I want to make you happy,” Spencer pops open the top button of Luke’s shirt to press kisses down his chest. 

“You’re perfect.”

Spencer slides his fingers across Luke’s back, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Spencer.”

“Mark,” Spencer corrects quietly, not losing momentum.

Luke shakes his head, pulling back to catch Spencer’s eyes, “No, I want to take you to bed now, and I only want to do that with you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s features soften into the sweetest joy, “How do you make me fall more in love with you every day?”

“Uh uh, all the credit today goes to you. This was… wow.”

“You liked it?” Spencer asks with hopeful eyes, and Luke tightens his grip affectionately to answer before his words can.

“I  _ loved _ it. You’re amazing! What made you come up with this?”

“You mentioned wondering what it would have been like if we didn’t have our jobs, and it sounded important to you, so I wanted to give you that.”

“Thank you. I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too, Luke.” He bounces in his seat, completely himself again. “Let’s go upstairs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was re-reading Picnic Basket and I found I wrote that Spencer read a 200 word novel. I meant 200 page. I fixed it. I feel really silly about it. Also, none of you threw a tomato at me over it, so I really appreciate that. Thank you for your patience while I try to balance life with a busier job in this pandemic. This story is my happy place, and I'm so thrilled you all visit.


	39. Mistletoe Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas in July!

Jingle Bells sings out from the record player, the air is scented with freshly cut pine, tiny lights glow from the tinsel-dazzled branches, and stockings hang over their roaring fire. It’s Christmas Eve and their halls are officially decked. Until yesterday neither of them owned Christmas decorations, but they have storage now, closets and an attic and more closets, so they went to Target and bought out their holiday section. Rainbow lights twinkle along their roof, a red and gold wreath brightens their door, garlands spiral down the banister, and boxes upon boxes of cheerful ornaments sit waiting to adorn their tree.

The team is on standby, unable to travel this holiday, but Luke is optimistic, looking forward to his first Christmas with Spencer in their new home.

Spencer, though, is ecstatic. He dug through the closet to find a green shirt to go with his bright red cardigan. He thumb-tacked mistletoe over the front door so he can pull Luke in for a kiss every time they come home, whispering, “Merry Christmas,” against his lips. He even added a golden bow to Roxy’s collar, and she seems quite fond of the accessory. 

And now Spencer is bringing a tray out of the kitchen, setting it on the coffee table before Luke as he takes the seat beside him. On the tray are six mugs. Six mugs for two people. Spencer is quick to explain, “You said you don’t know what your favorite holiday beverage is, and I don’t either, so I thought now would be a good time to decide. We have eggnog with a sprinkle of nutmeg, mulled apple cider, and hot cocoa with a candy cane.”

“This is quite a spread.”

“I also baked sugar cookies, but they’re still cooling.”

“Sugar cookies?”

Spencer nods, “They’re shaped like gingerbread men. I have icing and sprinkles to put on top.”

Luke cups Spencer’s face in both hands to give him a kiss, “You’re amazing. All I did was hang the lights.”

“They’re up?” Spencer jolts with excitement. “Can we go see them?”

“Yeah,” Luke rises, reaching out so he can hold Spencer’s hand. They keep shoes by the front door now, so they don’t have to traverse the house every time they want to leave it, and they slide those on on their way out the door. They don’t have on coats, so they huddle close down the walkway, standing against their picket fence.

Spencer sighs with joy at the festive display. It’s just two rows of lights, on the upper and lower eaves, swooping from hook to hook, but it’s on  _ their _ house for the holiday they’re spending  _ together.  _ “Love, it’s perfect.” The endearment slips out straight from his heart as Spencer leans his head into Luke’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Cariño. Now let’s go inside. It’s freezing and I want hot chocolate.”

They shut out the blistering cold, and before Luke can slip out of his shoes Spencer grabs him by the shoulders for another mistletoe kiss.

The fire has kept the living room nice and cozy and they snuggle in before it on the couch. Luke waves his hand over the selection of beverages, trying to decide, and plucks up eggnog. Spencer does the same and they tap the mugs in cheers before taking their first sips.

Luke grimaces around the small swallow, “I do not like eggnog.”

“I do!” Spencer looks into his mug approvingly, “It’s like an egg-flavored milkshake.”

“That’s exactly what’s wrong with it,” Luke laughs and exchanges it for cider. “Oh, now this is good. This is very good. What’s in here?”

“I simmered it with cloves, allspice, orange peels, and cinnamon sticks.”

“It’s delicious. I’d kiss you, but I’m afraid you’ll taste like egg milkshake.”

“Okay!” Spencer laughs. “I’ll switch to cider.” He brings it to his lips and smiles around a contented hum. “That is really good.”

As promised, Luke leans in for a kiss, and it doesn’t taste like egg. They don’t pull away after, just sit with their faces pressed together. Luke’s “I love you” is mumbled into Spencer’s cheek.

“I love you, too, Love.” This time the endearment is said with purpose. He’s not trying it out, he’s settling into it. It fits. 

“I like that,” Luke confirms, in case Spencer is waiting for his opinion. “It’s nice.”

“I’d call you something in Spanish but I think we’d both just laugh.”

“You speak plenty of languages. What’s ‘sweetheart’ in Russian?”

“ Vozlyublennaya,” rolls off Spencer’s tongue and completely over Luke’s head.

“Yeah, your instinct was good. I like Love.” He kisses Spencer again, tasting clove and cinnamon, then bends forward for that tray of mugs. “That cider is great, but my money is on the cocoa.” He tips the mug to his lips and closes his eyes to savor. “Mmm… Try yours, it’s really good.”

Spencer holds the candy cane in place and takes a sip. “It  _ is _ good. My favorite is the eggnog, though.”

Luke puts his hand over his heart as if wounded, then slowly shakes his head. “I forgive you.”

In response, Spencer bumps him playfully with his elbow. His gaze is caught by the tree, standing proud and half-adorned in the corner of the room, “We should finish decorating the tree.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s now or never,” Luke laughs, then sends a sly eye toward his boyfriend, “or Santa won’t bring us presents.”

“The only reason Santa hasn’t brought presents yet is because Roxy was sniffing at yours.”

“Oh, speaking of presents,” Luke hops up and pads sock-footed to their new credenza by the front door, pulls open a drawer, and returns with a small wrapped gift. “Start with this.”

With an excited gasp, Spencer leaps to his feet. “It’s Christmas Eve present time?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, since the evidence was already presented, and rushes up the stairs. Luke can hear him through the ceiling hurrying into the master bedroom, over to Spencer’s side of the bed, and then coming back down. He’s holding a larger present, pristinely covered in glossy paper, and sets it in Luke’s lap before sitting back down. Luke finally hands his gift over, and they’re still a moment as they both wait for the other to start.

“You first,” Luke prompts.

Spencer’s nimble fingers carefully peel the tape without ripping the wrapping, unfolding it back to its original rectangle. He’s left with a small cardboard box and pulls open the top. It’s an ornament made of sturdy resin. He lifts it into the light and sees it’s in the basic shape of a house, scribed with the words, “Our first home 2017.” He turns an emotional smile on Luke, “Should this be the first ornament we put up?”

At Luke’s nod Spencer stands, setting the box and paper on the coffee table. He rounds the tree, eyeing each branch, then settles on a spot at eye level facing the couch so they can see it. Before he sits back down he bends to give Luke a sweet kiss, “Thank you. I love it.”

Luke is less delicate with his gift, tearing the paper off in shreds. He’s barely gotten a look at what’s inside before Spencer is providing an explanation.

“I’ve heard it’s customary to gift sleepwear on Christmas Eve, but seeing as you prefer gym shorts to pyjamas, I thought you might prefer slippers.”

Removing them from the box, Luke shoves his feet inside and gives his toes a wiggle. “Comfy. These are really nice. Thank you, Spencer.” They share another grateful kiss before returning their attention to the tree. 

Spencer naturally spaces the ornaments evenly amongst the branches while Luke takes a more randomized approach, and their combined efforts creates a lovely aesthetic. “So,” Luke looks down at all the small empty boxes, “should we save those, or are we going to be the kind of couple who owns one of those big ornament organizers?”

“Cardboard attracts pests.”

“So, you’re saying we’re going to buy the organizer?”

“I’m saying I already bought one.”

The cookies are delicious and Luke devours one while Spencer is filling a piping bag. Spencer dresses his gingerbread man in sugary lederhosen and applies a cheery smile. Luke snaps off a leg and dunks it into the icing, popping it into his mouth still runny, “This is really good.”

“Merry Christmas!” Spencer beams, and Luke kisses those happy lips.

“Merry Christmas!”

It’s early when Luke wakes up, but Spencer is already out of bed. That’s unusual. Spencer usually scowls at the mere idea of dawn, but Christmas must be an exception. Luke stretches languidly as he slides out of the covers, stepping into his new slippers. Halfway down the stairs, he hears the soft tune of Christmas music played on a low volume. Spencer’s holiday cheer is incredibly respectful. The aroma hits and lures Luke the rest of the way into the kitchen: Spencer is making breakfast.

“Merry Christmas!” Spencer’s greeting comes out bright and joyous, and his kiss feels the same. “I’m making waffles with cinnamon sugar and whipped cream to look like snow.”

“That sounds amazing! How can I help?”

“Oh, thank you. If you get the second waffle out when it beeps, I’ll start with the toppings. There’s coffee, but I’m also making cocoa, if you want that.”

“Definitely cocoa.”

They carry their sugary breakfasts to their new dining table, sitting at the corner so they can touch hands between bites. 

Luke strokes his fingers down Spencer’s arm, “This was so nice of you to do. Thank you.”

“If you hadn’t gotten up, you were going to get breakfast in bed.”

Intrigued, Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, “I will remember that for next time.”

“Merry Christmas!” Spencer bounces in his seat.

“Merry Christmas!”

They are well-aware criminals don’t take holidays off. Their lives have been interrupted often by their jobs, and today might not be an exception, but Spencer is letting Luke’s optimism infect him. The fear of the future is not going to get in the way of enjoying the moment. It’s Christmas!

The music is turned up to fill the house with the holiday spirit and they curl up in their favorite spot on the couch before the fire. It’s cold out, and as soon as they drag a blanket over their legs Roxy jumps up to join them, resting her head in Spencer’s lap. 

“I really like these slippers,” Luke lifts a foot to admire. “I think I’m gonna be a slipper guy now.”

Spencer hums happily, cuddling in closer. “What are some of your favorite Christmas traditions?”

Luke blows out a long rush of air, “Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve even had the chance to celebrate. I mean, as kids we were always excited about new toys. We’d open up all the gifts in two minutes and spend the rest of the day playing. I think, looking back, the best part of the day was spending it with people we loved. Like I’m doing now.” He punctuates his point with a kiss to Spencer’s hair.

Spencer lifts his face to kiss Luke’s cheek, “I love you, too.”

“Is that a third stocking I see?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Spencer nods. “We needed one for Roxy.”

“Oh? What did Roxy get?”

Spencer drops his hand over Roxy’s upturned ear, “It’s a surprise.”

Their coffee is brewed with orange peels and cinnamon to make it seasonally special, and they’re on their third cups when Luke’s phone rings. It isn’t the regular ringtone, the sound a serial killer makes when they’re put on the BAU’s radar. No, it’s the video chat app alerting him to a call from Analise, so he answers it immediately.

“Merry Christmas!” It’s Analise’s voice, but the image is of little Lucia dressed in a red and green plaid dress with a big golden bow on her head. She’s staring at the screen like she’s just starting to appreciate that shapes can move on it.

“She’s adorable,” Luke fawns, while Spencer just goes with, “Aww.”

Analise whips the camera around to face herself, “I know, right? This family has the cutest babies. She picked this dress out herself, and by that I mean she’d stuck it in her mouth while I wasn’t looking and we had to buy it, but she has good taste. Maybe she’ll go into fashion. Anyway, thank you so much, Lucia loves her tummy time mat. I tell her every time it was from her uncles, and I have pictures I’ll send.” The image sways back and forth as Analise walks around the house. “Bethany, wave at Luke and Spencer.”

With another camera flip, Bethany comes into view, “Oh! Merry Christmas, you two!”

Carlos leans into frame, “Merry Christmas! Andy already added your gift to his terrarium, and Sarah hasn’t put her new book down.”

“And Hannah is walking around the house in her snorkel,” Bethany adds with a laugh. “Thank you so much.”

“Kids!” Carlos calls out, and the responding little feet are immediate. “Come wish your uncles a merry Christmas and thank them for your gifts.”

“Oh my goodness, this story is so good!” Sarah holds the cover up for the camera. “It might be my favorite of all time!” Sarah has a lot of favorite stories of all time, and that’s a wonderful thing.

“Tyrannosaurus Chomp really likes the volcano! He was licking at it,” Andy giggles at the memory.

Hannah hops into view, still in that snorkel, and pulls the mouthpiece away for a sweet, “Thank you!”

All three children choir, “Merry Christmas!”

Bethany looks past the camera toward her sister, “Did you tell them yet?”

“No, I’ll let them.”

“Tell us what?” Luke asks, tilting his head on instinct to try and get a view of Analise.

“The parents have news,” is all Analise will say as she walks them down the hallway. The home is spacious and immaculate, exactly what you’d expect upon meeting Bethany and Carlos Santiago, and it means a long wait as Analise goes hunting through the rooms. She finally finds them in the kitchen, which honestly should have been the first place she looked. “There you are! It’s Lukie and Spencer.” 

“Oh, hi, Sweethearts!” Rita calls out as they come into view.

“Merry Christmas, Luke! Merry Christmas, Spencer!” Yvonna waves, and Joe smiles softly and offers a sedate, “Merry Christmas, Boys.”

As Spencer is replying with the customary, “Merry Christmas!” Luke cuts straight to the chase, “What’s the news? They said you have news.”

Rita frowns, “Analise…”

“What? I didn’t tell them anything!”

“It’s good news,” Yvonna assures.

“Yes,” Rita continues, “very good news. We’ve been waiting to see what you kids do with your lives, where you end up, and Bethany and Carlos have laid down roots in Richmond, Analise and Raul are staying in Ashland, and Luke and Spencer, you now have a house in Stafford, and, well, we just realized that New York isn’t our home anymore. You’re all down there, so we’re going to move down there, too.”

“Not too close,” Yvonna jumps back in. “They’re building a retirement community in Ladysmith, which is about the midpoint between you all, so we’re going to sell our places in the Spring. That way, we’ll get to see you all more.”

“That’s great!” Luke is excited to the brim. “Ladysmith is only…” He turns to Spencer, “How far is Ladysmith?”

“Thirty-five miles.”

Needing to share his glee, Luke throws the arm not supporting their video chat around Spencer’s waist and s queezes, giving his cheek a quick kiss. 

“We’ll still call ahead,” Rita vows. “We respect you are all adults with busy lives, but this way we can be there to babysit, puppysit, housesit, whatever you kids need from us.”

Luke shakes his head, “You know we just want to spend time with you guys.”

“Oh, no,” Analise argues from behind the camera, “I’m taking you up on that babysitting offer.”

“The most lucrative time to list your home is the first week of April, and the urban housing market has been far outpacing suburban counterparts for well over a decade,” Spencer rattles off tidbits he discovered in their own home search. “And, of course, I’m very happy you’ll be closer.”

“Thank you, Sweetheart,” Rita sends a soft smile, then turns to her husband. “Joe, could you write that down, about the first week of April?”

“Okay,” Analise flips the camera back to her, Lucia held high in her arm to be in the shot, “I know this is your first Christmas together in your fancy new home, so we won’t keep you. Say merry Christmas, Lucia!” The infant doesn’t speak, but her toothless smile is cheerful enough.

“Merry Christmas!” Luke and Spencer wave until the call ends. 

Spencer leans against Luke’s shoulder, “The drive to Ladysmith is shorter than the flight to New York. We could have them over for dinners. We could spend the day with them and be back to Roxy before nightfall.”

“Yeah,” Luke lets out a happy sigh. “Both of our families will be close. We’re gonna see your mom after New Year’s, right?”

“Yes, she usually does much better once the holidays are over.” Spencer’s fingers tap against his thighs in absent rhythm.

“Speaking of family, want to call JJ and Will?”

“Oh, I don’t want to bother them on Christmas. I’m sure they’re busy.”

“Let’s text and find out.” Luke is already tapping away at his phone. The reply comes only a moment later, and Luke doesn’t have time to read it before that ringtone is playing again, signaling a video call. Luke bumps shoulders with Spencer, sharing a smile before answering with their practiced twin, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” JJ and Will are both wearing ugly sweaters, hers black with neon colored reindeer and his with Warholian rows of multi-colored Santa Clauses. They hold up mugs of coffee, bags under their eyes from holiday-happy children, and bright smiles filling their faces.

“Those robots were great gifts, Guys,” JJ praises.

Will adds, “Henry’s already asking when you’ll come and help him build his.”

There’s a funny sound from inside JJ’s home, something sharp and pitched, and Roxy’s ears perk up.

“What was that?” Spencer asks.

“Oh,” JJ shares a look with her husband, “that’s their other present.”

“Their other present has already peed on the carpet twice.” Will’s expression is unamused, but it brightens up all on its own, “Boys, why don’t you come here and tell your uncles what you got?”

Henry runs into view holding a puppy with immense pride. She’s a dappled dachshund, tan with black spots. “This is Chocolate Chip!”

“Wow!” Spencer enthuses, “You have a dog!”

“Yeah! She doesn’t know fetch as good as Roxy, but she really likes to run and bark. Do you think she and Roxy can be friends?”

Luke fields that question, “When Chocolate Chip is a little bigger we can ask them.”

JJ smooths her hand over her son’s hair, “You also got another cool present, right, Buddy?”

Henry has to think a second before his eyebrows shoot up, “That robot is so cool! Are you gonna help me build it?”

“We would love to!” Spencer nods with honest enthusiasm.

Will bends down and comes back up with Michael in his arms, “Hey, Michael, look! It’s your Uncle Spence and Uncle Luke. Can you say merry Christmas for them?”

At his top volume, Michael gives the phrase his best toddler try, and then they’re all saying it, back and forth until it sounds silly and dissolves into laughter. 

Will frowns down at the puppy, still lifted against Henry’s chest, “I think we should take Chocolate Chip outside again. She’s wiggling a bit much for my comfort.” He lowers Michael to the ground and sends a parting wave, “You have a merry Christmas!” He can be heard making a game plan with his sons about how often to take Chocolate Chip outside to avoid future carpet stains.

“So,” JJ brings the camera closer now that she’s the only one in it, “how’s the first holiday in the new house?”

Luke turns the camera around to show off the decorated tree and mantle, “I think it’s going well.”

“When did you find the time?” JJ exclaims when she sees their faces again. “We were in Michigan until three days ago!”

“Spencer was highly motivated, and Target had a sale.”

“I like your sweater,” Spencer pipes in, his expression sincere because he actually means it.

JJ looks down and a lime green reindeer looks up at her from her chest, “Oh! Yeah, ugly sweaters are a little holiday tradition around here.”

Spencer tilts his head, “Ugly?”

A timer beeps loud and insistent and JJ twirls toward her kitchen, “That’s the cinnamon rolls. Thank you for reaching out! It was nice talking to you, and have a merry Christmas!”

They chime a “Merry Christmas!” together and the chat ends. 

“That was nice,” Spencer snuggles in closer to Luke’s side, and Luke lifts his arm to hold him. 

“What would you like to do now?”

“I like this,” Spencer presses into Luke for emphasis.

Luke drops a kiss to Spencer’s hair, “I like this, too.” They stay cuddled, gazing at the fire as Luke strokes his hand down Spencer’s back and Spencer trails his fingers over Luke’s thigh. They lose themselves to the cozy, intimate moment, until Roxy hops off the couch and trots over to the fireplace to give a pointed sniff at a particular stocking.

“Uh-oh,” Luke chuckles, “looks like Roxy found her gift.”

Spencer lifts himself off the couch and turns to Luke, “Should we do stockings now?”

“Do we have something in our stockings?”

“Of course we have something in our stockings!” Spencer unhooks all three and Roxy follows back to the couch. He drapes Luke’s over his lap, letting him feel the heft of its contents, then holds Roxy’s out for her to sniff. Her nose travels animatedly over the soft fabric before finding the opening and shoving in. “Okay!” Spencer laughs as he pulls the stocking back. “Are you ready?” He and Roxy lock eyes, so she’s ready. Spencer tips the stocking and lets everything fall out onto the floor. A colorful display of dog toys jumps and slides and Roxy tries to capture each one. There’s a plush hamburger with a squeaker, a tug rope, rubberized balls for extra bounce, and peanut butter scented tennis balls. 

“Whoa!” Luke is almost as excited as his dog, “That’s quite the haul!”

“And if you’d notice, there is not a speck of pink.”

Roxy lands on one of the rubberized balls, staring at them as she chews, her body wiggling enticingly. She waits patiently for them to dress in warm clothing then rushes ahead through the dog door to her favorite patch of grass. Luke and Spencer take turns gripping that slobbery toy in their gloved hands, sending it and the dog leaping about the backyard. She lasts about eight minutes before the cold gets to her and she abandons them for her cushion on the couch. 

Luke throws his clean hand over Spencer’s shoulder to pull him in for a kiss, “I want to go see what Santa put in our stockings.”

Spencer makes a giddy noise in his throat and leads the way back inside. They slip off their boots by the back door and lay their coats and gloves over a chair, certain Roxy will be beckoning them out again soon enough. 

The stockings are in their seats beside Roxy, who is already napping with that ball still in her mouth. Since Spencer already knows what’s inside, he takes pleasure in watching Luke reach in and pull out the small treasures.

“Ooh, these coffee beans look fancy.”

“Hand To Hand Coffee is a roaster near work that sources ethically. I got us both a variety from Africa and Latin America so we can decide on favorites.”

Luke holds a bag of beans to his nose and inhales the aroma, “This is gonna be great. Thank you.” He leans in for a kiss and can feel Spencer’s smile against his lips.

“There’s more.”

Luke uses Spencer’s trick and, holding the stocking by its toe, dumps out the remaining gift. It’s small, hard, and its odd shape is wrapped in silver paper. There’s enough tape that it takes effort to tear open, and when he finally does he’s holding a key. The head is shaped like a rudimentary house, with a roof over two windows and a door. 

“I know we have plenty of copies of our house key, but I like to think this home was a gift we gave each other, and I wanted something to commemorate that,” Spencer explains, holding up his own identical key.

“I love it. This is so thoughtful, thank you.” Luke drops the stocking to slide his palm along Spencer’s cheek. “What Christmas activity would you like to do next?”

“I don’t know. Most of my knowledge on holiday traditions is historical.”

“Okay. Would you like to open presents?”

Spencer takes a moment to think it over before shaking his head, “I want to save that for later.”

“How about we watch the greatest Christmas movie ever made?”

Spencer chuckles at the enthusiasm behind the claim. “Yes. Absolutely, let’s do that.”

Luke sets his gifts on the coffee table and retrieves the remote, turning on the television mounted above the fireplace. He purchased the film for this exact reason, and with a few clicks church bells are clanging and Deck The Halls is playing over the opening credits to A Christmas Story.

Spencer drapes his arm over Luke’s shoulders to pull him in, letting him cuddle into his side. They smile through Ralphie fantasizing about that BB gun, chuckle at little Andy in his snowsuit, and grimace at the poor child whose tongue gets stuck to the frozen flagpole. When the large wooden package is opened to reveal that gaudy leg lamp, Spencer muses, “That reminds me of an acrotomophile we caught three years ago. He had a collection of amputated legs in the trunk of his car.”

Luke leans forward to press the pause button. Spencer is apologizing for the inappropriate topic at the same time Luke is asking him something so he misses the question.

“What?”

“I asked how you caught him. I love this movie, but you know our weird lives are always going to interest me more. How’d you catch the Leg Guy?”

Spencer relaxes, grateful to be part of a couple that has this level of mutual understanding. “It was Rossi, actually, and an agent named Kate Callahan. They knocked on the unsub’s door, a Frank Cowles, and asked to search his place. He was spooked enough to try to dump his collection, and when he trespassed on private property they had probable cause to search his vehicle and found the legs. We all thought we had the killer, but it turned out he purchased those legs on the black market. He would be contacted by an unknown seller and given a location, such as a rest stop or abandoned building, and he’d exchange money for an amputated limb. Interestingly, the reason we found him was the amount of silica gel he purchased to preserve the limbs.”

“Gross,” Luke says like it’s a compliment. “Really puts a new spin on that lamp.”

“You can play the movie again. I’ll try not to interrupt with any more murders.”

“You interrupt all you want.”

Fortunately, neither of them is reminded of any other cases, and by the end credits Roxy has trotted off to chew on a peanut butter tennis ball somewhere in the house and they’re laid out across the couch, Luke against Spencer’s chest.

“Best Christmas movie of all time,” Luke sticks with his initial review.

“I liked it. I can certainly see why people watch that every year.”

“Maybe it can be one of our traditions, too,” Luke remarks casually, rising to his feet with a big over-the-head stretch and a satisfied groan.

Spencer gazes up at him with a soft smile, “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Luke extends a hand to help him up. “I’m starving. Are you ready for dinner?”

“Yes. In some traditions, the Christmas dinner is the most important part of the day.” 

“It ranks pretty high for me, too.” 

They walk hand in hand to the refrigerator, breaking off with their meal components. Luke purchased the ham specifically because it came pre-cooked with detailed, simple instructions. He can reheat, and with Spencer’s supervision he can even accomplish this without burning anything. 

With the ham in the oven, filling the kitchen with its sweet and savory aroma, Spencer takes over the stovetop. Green beans boil as he concocts a basil butter sauce, tossing in cherry tomatoes for that festive red and green. He’s carefully stirring when a factoid leaks out, “It is believed the association with ham and Christmas stems from the Norse tradition of sacrificing a boar during harvest festivals.”

A grin spreading across his face, Luke sidles up close and slides his hand down Spencer’s back, “I’ve been hoping for holiday trivia, Sexy Brains. What else you got?”

Spencer is used to feeling self-conscious at such comments, but this is Luke, who genuinely enjoys what he has to say, who just called him Sexy Brains, who is drawing sweet circles into his back, and who loves him. He pumps up his own confidence with a kiss to Luke’s lips before spouting something new, “The first celebration of Christmas can be traced back to mid-fourth century Rome, but seeing as the commemoration of a birthday was considered wholly pagan, Christmas would not become a major Christian holiday for nearly half a millennium.”

Luke hums contentedly, “This has to be a tradition, too. Every year you teach me something new about Christmas.”

“The modern depiction of Santa Claus is based on 1930s Coca Cola ads.”

“I love your mind,” Luke traces a thumb along Spencer’s jaw.

“My mind loves you.”

While their meal cooks, Roxy gets her Christmas gift from Luke. He calls her into the kitchen holding a brown paper bag and her nose immediately knows what’s in there. Eyes wide and tail whipping back and forth, she maintains an obedient sit. 

“Ready?” Luke asks, and clearly Roxy is. He removes an antler and waves it before her before handing it over, “Merry Christmas, Rox!” 

Her mouth is delicate to take the present, and then she rushes off to find a private corner to enjoy it. 

Luke and Spencer eat at the dining table again, making the most of their extravagant purchase, and once the leftovers are refrigerated and the dishes cleaned Luke announces, “I’m ready for presents.” Spencer nods happily and dashes off toward the den. They each have their own corner of the house the other doesn’t frequent, and Luke’s is the gym. He’s hidden Spencer’s presents there under a blanket behind the weight rack, and when he brings them out he finds Spencer already waiting on the couch, wrapped boxes in his lap, and a bright red Santa hat on his head. Luke laughs, “Where did you get that?”

Spencer’s fingers automatically go to the fluffy brim, “I bought it online. Garcia showed me how. I also purchased one of your gifts on the internet. There’s a lot you can find on there!”

“Yeah, there is,” Luke chuckles good-naturedly as he sets Spencer’s gifts on the coffee table and sits beside him. “In fact, I think all of this came from the internet.”

Spencer pushes a small but hefty gift into Luke’s lap, “Open this one first.”

Luke kisses Spencer’s cheek, knowing he’ll appreciate the present before learning what it is, because it’s from Spencer. The paper tears away to reveal a book. “Unsung Anthems: Little-Known Heroes of American History. This is that book my dad has, that you were reading on Thanksgiving. I love this book.”

“It’s a newer edition: more heroes, fuller biographies. I thought you’d like your own copy.”

“I do, thank you!” He kisses him again, now knowing what he’s grateful for. “Do you think there’s room in that library for another book?”

It’s a joke, but Spencer responds honestly, “I made room. Your Military collection has its own shelf now, between Geography and History.”

That part is even more touching, that Spencer carved out a chunk of his literary paradise for Luke, and Luke holds Spencer’s face as he presses their lips together, kiss lingering with fond love. 

Spencer looks giddy when they come apart, “Merry Christmas!”

Luke drops the smaller gift into Spencer’s hand, “Open this one.”

The wrapping comes off in one neat piece, the cardboard box slides open, and nimble fingers pluck out two pairs of socks, one with a pattern of TARDISes and one with the colorful stripes of the Fourth Doctor’s scarf. Spencer’s jaw drops in excitement, “I love them!” He eyes the socks he has on, a gold and red striped and a green with white stars, and they’re too festive to change out of now, but these new socks will go to the top of his drawer. 

“I’m glad you like them,” Luke lets himself feel proud of his choice.

Spencer throws his arms around Luke’s shoulders for another kiss, “Thank you!” He pulls back, replacing his presence with the next present. “Be gentle when you open this one. It’s fragile.”

Luke takes a page from Spencer’s book, gently removing the tape and unfolding the paper at the edges. He’s holding a shadow box displaying his military achievements: medals, plaques, letters of accommodation, and even a photograph of him with his buddies playing poker. It’s a lot to look at, and Luke goes still as he stares.

“I found the box of memorabilia while unpacking and thought it would be nice to have them on display. We don’t have to, of course, if you don’t want to, but I’m really proud of what you sacrificed and achieved.” Spencer lays a hand on Luke’s thigh, “Is this okay?”

“This is great.” Luke tears his eyes away from the box to send Spencer a sincere smile, “This is really great. I didn’t think to… Seeing this all like this, I just- Where did you get the picture?”

“I called Bill and he mailed it to me. I didn’t want to take the one you have framed. You really like it?”

“I really like it.” Luke’s chest swells as his mind replays Spencer saying how proud he is. “This is perfect.”

Spencer sighs, “I’m glad. I was thinking it would look nice on the dresser.”

Luke nods in agreement but sets the box on the coffee table for now, wanting to keep looking at it. “You made this.”

“Yes, there’s a felt backing everything is pinned into.”

Luke grabs Spencer’s hand and stares intensely into his eyes, “Wow.”

“Wow?”

“It’s a wow,” Luke nods to accentuate his point. “This is a wow gift.” It’s Luke who’s grateful, but Spencer initiates the Thank You Kiss, and Luke’s arms come around to hold him close. “Best boyfriend.” He slyly wipes his eyes before leaning back to get Spencer’s second gift. “You set the bar pretty high there, but I think you’ll like this.”

Spencer eyes Luke, assessing his mood before relaxing into a smile and unwrapping. Inside the parcel is a hardcover of Who On Earth Is Tom Baker? and Spencer’s smile broadens. “Tom’s Baker’s autobiography.”

“I checked the bookshelves again and I didn’t see this one, and I know he’s your favorite Doctor.”

“I had one, but it was destroyed when my apartment flooded. Thank you.” His fingers pet over the cover, then turn to the first page and Spencer inhales sharply. “It’s signed?”

“Yeah, it’s a first edition he signed back in ‘97.”

His body jolts in excitement, “I never had  _ that _ before!”

“There’s something else underneath.”

Spencer lifts out the book to find a stack of paper held together by round-head fasteners through three binder holes. In large type are the words:    
“Doctor Who 3    
Episode 10    
By Steven Moffat”    
and in Sharpie is David Tennant’s unmistakable signature. 

“David Tennant was auctioning off scripts for charity,” Luke explains. “I had to stay up until 3:00 AM to make sure I was the highest bidder, but we donated to hurricane relief.”

“Season three episode ten, that’s Blink. That’s a good episode.” He looks to Luke expectantly and Luke doesn’t disappoint.

“They’re all good episodes. Also, that’s one of the first we ever watched together.”

“That’s right, it is!” Spencer smiles down at both book and script before setting them on the coffee table to give Luke a tight hug. “Those are very good presents. Thank you so much.”

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

Pressing his face into Luke’s shoulder, Spencer’s voice is a bit muffled, “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“We’ve got many more ahead, Cariño.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for visiting :-)


	40. New Year's Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not intend to skip last week's update, but life got in the way. I was cleaning my carpets and the machine died, and I thought the wait for a new carpet cleaner to arrive was the perfect opportunity to remove wallpaper and paint. You can probably imagine the disaster zone my home currently is. I'm taking time off to catch back up this week, which includes writing! Yay!

Spencer’s shirt hangs open in the front as he works on fastening his watch, so Luke steps in and starts doing up buttons from the bottom. It’s the lavender shirt Luke picked out for him at the Plaid Hatter, and Luke is wearing his blue one from the same day. Tonight is their first chance to wear them, because when David Rossi throws a New Year’s Party, you dress for the occasion. 

“Thank you,” Spencer smiles when he realizes he’s being dressed. 

Luke undoes the button he just fastened and waggles his eyebrows just to get a laugh, then finishes up by sliding his hands out over Spencer’s chest. “How do you want to be tonight?”

Spencer’s eyes squint as he tries to puzzle out that statement, but he comes up blank, “What do you mean?”

“It’s a party, with our coworkers. It’s the first time we’ll be around them in a social situation, and our relationship isn’t a secret anymore… How do you want us to be tonight?”

“I want us to be us,” Spencer responds easily, and to solidify his point he leans in to press a sweet kiss to Luke’s cheek.

“Yeah? I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Spencer chews his lip before confessing, “I’ve actually been looking forward to a New Year’s kiss.”

A grin fills Luke’s face, “Me too. I’ve never had one before.”

“Really?” Spencer’s features bely his surprise before he can school them.

“Yeah, it just never worked out.”

Spencer slides his palm along Luke’s jaw, “It will be a first for us both, then.”

“I like that.” 

They kiss, a practice run for later, and then twice more just to perfect technique, before completing their outfits. Spencer’s new Doctor Who socks can be seen in their striped and time machine glory just below the cuffs of his pants.

“My mom wants a picture,” Luke waves his cell phone in the air.

“Of what?”

“Us. She says I made this sound like prom and she wants to see us dressed up.”

Spencer presses into Luke’s side and they capture a happy image to send off. Then Spencer’s hand trails up Luke's arm and squeezes around his bicep, and the mood changes. His voice is a murmur against Luke’s neck, “You look really good.”

Luke drops his phone on the bed and turns to take Spencer into his arms. “You’re gorgeous,” is barely out of his lips before they’re on Spencer’s. Their passion is instantaneous, a match struck, and they cling to each other as their kiss deepens. Spencer’s fingers drive up into Luke’s hair, nails dragging along his scalp. Luke loops his arms around Spencer’s lower back and pulls him tight against him. Their mouths move together as one, and then they break apart to press sucking kisses down each other’s necks, hands rubbing down their sides and up their spines as they try to pull each other impossibly closer. Luke can feel Spencer’s breathy moan against his lips as he kisses his throat, and Spencer’s tongue in the shell of Luke’s ear earns him a sensual cry. 

Luke’s phone rings. 

They don’t react at first, caught up in the feeling of their touch. On the second ring, Luke presses his forehead against Spencer’s shoulder and groans, “If it’s a case we aren’t home.”

“It’s probably the car Rossi is sending to pick us up,” Spencer chuckles, plucking up the phone to answer it. It’s a touch screen, and he taps the answer icon, then tries swiping it, and nothing works so on the third ring he just pushes it into Luke’s hand. 

“Alvez,” Luke answers automatically. “Okay, thank you. We’ll be right down.” He hangs up with an easy tap of his thumb and smiles at Spencer, “You were right, it’s our ride.”

They step apart and Spencer takes Luke in, his lip catching between his teeth on a wince, “I’m sorry, let me just…” His fingers smooth through the locks they threw askew only moments ago. 

“Yeah,” Luke smirks as he straightens Spencer’s tie, “but that was worth it.”

Rossi doesn’t just send a car for them, he sends a stretch limousine. The man does nothing by halves. Spencer and Luke slide in to find Tara, and Matt and Kristy Simmons are already inside, glasses of champagne in hand. 

“I see the party’s already started,” Luke greets.

“You know it!” Tara leans forward with two more glasses for them.

“Guys,” Matt waves both his hands in the air, “I just want to make sure you know I’m here. In case you don’t notice?”

Kristy playfully smacks her husband’s arm, “Be nice!”

Spencer ducks his heated face, but Luke is laughing so hard and gripping his hand in support, and suddenly it’s not so embarrassing. 

They all sip their champagne, a nice bottle with elegant bubbles and vibrant acidity. Rossi is nothing if not classy.

“So, does Rossi throw one of these every New Year’s?” Matt asks the car.

“This is a first for me,” Luke answers.

Tara explains around another sip of giggle water, “It depends on if we have a case.”

“It actually started as cooking lessons for team bonding. It evolved into regular dinner parties and then full on soirees. In fact, he hosted JJ’s wedding.” Spencer informs, holding much older knowledge.

Matt’s brow flies up, “His house is fancy enough to host a wedding?”

“He sent a limousine to pick us up,” Tara sasses with a smile.

“Fair enough.”

Their limo pulls into Rossi’s driveway behind another that already has team members pouring out. Garcia is holding hands with a tall gentleman with brown hair and a handsome face. Prentiss steps out next in heels she’ll be abandoning as soon as she enters the house, and then Will, who pulls out a jubilant JJ.

The driver comes around and opens the door, letting Spencer and Luke out first, and JJ races toward them, tugging Will along, “This night is going to be amazing!”

“There was champagne in the limo,” Will greets rosy-cheeked, his arm wrapped lovingly around his wife, “and I’m fairly certain the last drink we had was at Dave’s  _ last _ holiday shindig.”

“Remember to hydrate,” Spencer laughs, but his advice is sincere.

“And eat a banana!” Luke adds, because when Spencer teaches him something, he listens.

As a large group, they make their way into the grand foyer where Rossi is welcoming them. His arm is around a beautiful woman his age dressed like an elegant rockstar. There’s a palpable whirring as a room full of slightly-inebriated profilers start to take her in.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” Rossi greets. “I would like to start by reminding you all that the limousines will be running until 3AM. I hope you all enjoy yourselves and get home safely. Come morning, I don’t want to find any of you asleep on my couch,” he breaks into a wry grin. The fun uncle of the group would never actually kick any of them out. “I would like to introduce you all to Tina. She is a dear friend and I happen to like you all enough to meet her.” He smiles at his special guest, who smiles right back, then returns his gaze to the team, “I am grateful to have each and every one of you in my life, you’ve all made this a wonderful year, and on to the next!”

The spacious living room has platters of yummy bites on every surface: bruschetta, caprese skewers, ricotta stuffed figs, olives, Italian charcuterie, and sweet canoles. Each dish has Rossi’s signature all over it. Swirling in the air are the soft tones of Dean Martin singing about grapes in California. Next to a collection of champagne flutes is an ice bucket filled with chilled bottles waiting to be popped. 

The team mingles, holding their tiny plates of tinier food as they try to talk about anything besides work. JJ and Will are drawn to Matt and Kristy by parental magnetism, immediately sharing adorable details about their children. Rossi is aware Tara is a fellow connoisseur of the finer spirits and sets a particularly impressive single malt before her, and she pulls a rocks glass out of nowhere to give it a try. Prentiss sneaks her way into the wine cabinet and, having coerced her colleague into making the mistake of giving her free access, snags herself a primitivo to nurse for the evening. She doesn’t need a glass, she drinks from the bottle like the boss she is.

Prentiss and Tara sit close on the sectional, cheering their beverages before imbibing. Luke and Spencer sit across from them, hands linked in Luke’s lap as Spencer leans into his shoulder. Luke turns to drop a quick kiss to Spencer’s hair before popping in an olive.

“So,” Tara lifts her glass to point it at Spencer and Luke, “how long have you two been together?”

There’s a gasp behind them and Garcia leans over the back of the couch to look at them with guilt, “Was it before prison? If I’d known, I would have adjusted the visitation schedule, I wouldn’t have tried to keep you apart!”

“It was well after,” Spencer quickly placates. 

“Well, it could have been before,” Luke smirks.

Spencer turns back to his boyfriend, “What do you mean?”

“That book? I had hope.”

“What book?” Kristy pipes up, alerting them that the entire room is listening in now.

“It’s called The Human I,” Spencer explains, “a psychology text on how the human brain forms a sense of self.”

“Spencer brought it over last Spring, and yeah, I hoped there was more to the visit, but it  _ was _ a great book,” Luke shrugs it off. What does it matter if they didn’t start dating then, when they’re dating now?

“There was something more,” Spencer confesses to their joined hands. At Luke’s gentle squeeze, he clears his throat and keeps going, “This year was...difficult, for me.”

There’s a general murmur of agreement around the room. Their lives are not easy, but a year where one of them has to take in an ailing parent, sneaks across the border behind the FBI’s back to procure experimental drugs, gets arrested in Mexico for murder and then beaten in prison, just for that ailing parent to be kidnapped by a serial killer? That’s a difficult year.

Spencer meets Luke’s eyes, “I needed something good, and you make everything better.”

Luke kisses his cheek at that and Spencer leans into the sensation a moment before addressing the rest of the group, “None of you gave up on me, and I’ll always appreciate that. This team really is family.”

Rossi raises a glass of scotch, “I’ll toast to that.” Everyone lifts what is handy: a glass, a small plate, Prentiss holds her whole bottle in the air. 

With a genial smile, Tara takes them back to the question at hand, “So, you started dating after?”

Luke chuckles at her persistence, “Yes, our first date was September 13th.”

JJ lets out a gleeful squeak and taps her glass to Will’s, “The day of our brunch!”

Matt, who is standing next to her, sends a quizzical look, “What about a brunch?”

“Let’s just say,” JJ is puffed with pride, “that we knew they’d make a great couple before they did.”

“Best hide that light under a bushel, Honey,” Will bumps her shoulder to direct her attention to Prentiss’ pointedly quirked eyebrow.

“This champagne is so good,” JJ hides her face in her flute as she sips, hoping that was suave enough to smooth over the moment.

Luke guides the conversation toward safer waters, “For our first date, Spencer took me on a scavenger hunt that ended with a picnic in the park. He even made sure all the stops were dog-friendly so I could bring Roxy.”

“Aww,” Garcia coos, laying her head against her boyfriend’s chest. “That’s really sweet. Isn’t that sweet, Sam?”

“Yeah, Penny, that’s sweet,” he agrees, wrapping his arms around her.

“Luke bought me a star,” Spencer adds, because it’s important to him that everyone knows Luke is every bit as good of a boyfriend as he is.

“A star?” Prentiss starts to set her bottle on the coffee table but thinks better of it, resting it instead on her leg.

“Yeah, we both have one right next to each other.” Luke’s cheeks can barely contain his grin, “So we can twinkle at each other.”

Garcia coos again, JJ hides a giggle at the way Luke hams that up, and Tara scrunches her nose as she announces, “That’s nauseatingly precious.”

Luke’s beaming face is far too proud, “That’s not even half of it!” He checks on his boyfriend and sees a slight blush shining on his cheeks; they’ve been the topic of discussion long enough. “Rossi, I have to say, this food is delicious. You really know how to throw a party.”

Tara and Prentiss simultaneously second the motion with a raise of their beverages, and JJ cheers her third before the room fills with flowery praise for their host. He’s clearly touched, but he holds up his hands to quiet them, “You haven’t yet seen the best part.” He sends a message to Tina with his eyes and she nods, heading straight for the bar in the corner of the room.

Out of the miniature refrigerator come two shakers already half-filled with a boozy concoction. Tina adds ice and, shaker in each hand, takes the beverages for a vigorous dance through the air and around her body. The performance is just as alluring as the liquid magic inside, and there’s even flare to the way she pours it into martini glasses. The small crowd erupts into well-earned applause. 

“What is this?” Garcia hops over in her tall, tall shoes, inspiring the rest to follow.

“My new best friend,” Prentiss declares.

“Ah,” Rossi points a scolding finger at his boss, “she’s taken.”

“I was referring to the cocktail.”

“This secret recipe is called Viper’s Milk,” Tina slides the tray of vibrantly colored potions toward the team. “It’s the signature cocktail at my club, Queen of Diamonds.”

“You own Queen of Diamonds?” Garcia manages to bounce in her heels. “I’ve been dying to go there! Your online reviews are amazing!”

“Tina won’t tell you this,” Rossi steps behind the bar to brag on his guest of honor, “but she built that club from the ground up. She started her career as a barback and knows the industry forward and backward. Nowhere will you find a better atmosphere for a drink, and trust me, I’ve been to them all.”

Tina thanks him with a gentle squeeze of his arm, “And you’re of course all invited. Just say Dave’s name at the door and you’ll receive the VIP treatment.”

“Oh, team outing!” Garcia shouts her excitement. “Team outing!” She gets the general non-committal response of a group who knows better than to schedule in verbal ink. 

Each glass is plucked with words of thanks and the crowd disperses. Luke and Spencer cozy back up on the couch and clink their cocktails before taking a sip. Their eyes widen in mirror image.

Spencer lifts his drink to let it shimmer in the light, “This is delicious!”

Luke nods in enthusiastic agreement. “Probably only gonna have one, though.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty strong.”

“And I want to remember every moment. You only get one first New Year’s with someone.”

Spencer’s features soften as he traces his hand down Luke’s back, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Cariño.”

Food pairs well with maintained faculties, so they rise to refill their itty plates, favoring the cannolis. When they reclaim their seats Spencer leans in especially close to whisper conspiratorially, “I also had hope, when I brought that book over.”

“Oh?”

“Even when my efforts were friendly, when I thought that was all I could have, my heart aimed higher. I was so nervous you’d see through my poorly-planned ruses, but you were always so nice to me, every time.” He tilts his head to the side, “Then again, you’re nice to everyone.”

Luke slides his thumb along Spencer’s jaw to remind him, no matter how nice Luke may be to the general public, his boyfriend is special. “Well, now you know, if you’d have asked, the answer would have been yes.”

Spencer smiles as he contemplates what might have been, had he not received that text message from his mother’s doctor all those months ago, but had stayed at Luke’s side, their mutual hopes growing and twisting together. He shakes the thought away; whatever might have been, now is pretty perfect.

Garcia peeks around the room to see everyone is distracted in conversation. Discreetly, she loads up two plates with bruschetta and whisks Sam off to mansion parts unknown.

The soft music drowns beneath the chattering waves, but that doesn’t stop JJ from wanting to dance with her husband. She wraps her arms around his neck, rocking back and forth, “Dance with me.”

Will pulls her close, sliding his cheek against hers, “Shall I hum us a tune?”

Prescient wisdom spawned from a lifetime in piano bars has Tina sitting before the ivory keys the moment she’s needed, fingers dancing out notes in a habit to check it’s tuned before she starts the opening melody to Adele’s Make You Feel My Love. As she sings the first lyrics Matt and Kristy join the dancing.

Because he knows how much Luke would love to dance, Spencer rises and extends an inviting hand, “Rhythmically sway with me?”

Luke swallows down a stuffed fig to respond with a bright and excited smile, hopping to his feet. There isn’t a dance floor, just a patch of unfurnished hardwood where the couples congregate. Luke loops his arms over Spencer’s shoulders and Spencer holds him at the waist. They move side to side in a slow circle, nothing fancy, just close.

Tina’s rich and smoky voice fills the room, and after her second song, Prentiss and Tara clap from their view on the couch.

“Are you in the mood to dance?” Prentiss asks.

Tara frowns apologetically and admits, “Not really.” 

Prentiss leans in closer, eyebrows lifted enticingly, “Want to go snooping in this big fancy house?”

Excitement has Tara hopping off the couch before the words, “Yes, absolutely!” even leave her mouth. They haven’t taken more than a few steps when she spins back to grab that bottle of scotch, waving it in the air like a prize catch.

Prentiss hasn’t set her bottle down yet tonight, so they’re good to go. They manage a straight line past the couch and down the hallway, and with a quick peek behind to make sure they weren’t followed, they open the first door.

The room is a den, with a TV facing a plush seating area, and most notably, it’s occupied. Garcia hops away from Sam’s lips with a surprised squeak.

“Well, hello,” Prentiss’ mouth curves into a cheshire grin.

Tara reaches for the handle to pull the door closed, “You two have a good night.”

“Bring more bruschetta!” Garcia calls just as the door clicks home. There’s no response so she lets out a disappointed sigh, “I don’t think they’re bringing bruschetta.”

With a single finger, Sam guides her face back to his. “We have everything we need right here,” he purrs, and they get right back to their good night.

The next room Tara and Prentiss find has a large portrait of dogs playing poker, a card table, a long Tiffany lamp hanging from the ceiling, and the piece de resistance is announced by Tara with an air of reverence, “A pool table.”

Prentiss takes a dainty swig of primitivo before grabbing a cue, “You play?”

“I dabble,” Tara shrugs, her eyes shifting slyly toward her opponent. 

“Excellent,” Prentiss throws back another mouthful. “Rack ‘em up.”

Rossi is leaned against the wall, the party playing out before him, but he only has eyes for Tina. They’ve been acquaintances for years, and their friendship blossomed naturally, but never branched out. She’s an amazing woman and he considers himself lucky to have her in his life, especially on nights like tonight when he can watch her shine in her element. 

Hosting duties float to the surface and he spots the empty bruschetta tray. He didn’t notice the run on it, but it’s an old family recipe, so he’s pleased to see it’s appreciated. With one last glance to Tina over that piano, he ducks into the kitchen to slice ciabatta.

Spencer is nuzzling his cheek against Luke’s when he sees Rossi step out, “I think Rossi just left to make more food.”

Luke hums in understanding, “We should go help him.”

As they part, their hands join, and they side-step Will and JJ to make their way out of the room. 

“Would you like some help?” Luke offers when they find Rossi with a serrated knife over a loaf of bread. 

“Do you know how to cook?” Rossi eyes Luke like he already knows the answer.

“I’m an excellent kitchen assistant.”

“He really is,” Spencer assures, looking at his boyfriend with pride.

“And Spencer is an amazing cook.” They squeeze hands in mutual gratitude.

“Well, in that case,” Rossi indicates the slices before him, “lesson one is the crostini. See this beautiful slice of ciabatta? Too thick and it won’t crisp, too thin and it won’t support the topping. Now, you brush both sides with the olive oil, just enough for it to shine.” He explains the whole process, with Spencer and Luke teaming up to make a second batch as he watches his crostinis bake. 

Spencer handles the oil brush and Luke is tasked with flipping the bread. Their shoulders touch as they work, focused on the serious task of helping their host as they chat.

“We should make these at home, and then you can put your curry on them,” Luke suggests.

Spencer shakes his head, “You and that curry.”

“Yes, me and that curry! It’s delicious!”

“There  _ are _ other delicious foods out there.”

“I’m smart enough to stick with something great when I find it,” Luke bumps their hips together.

Spencer slowly turns toward his boyfriend, “Okay, that was pretty good.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Spencer gives him a quick kiss before oiling the final slice.

“Perfetto!” Rossi praises as he takes the finished batch. “You boys come over sometime, I’ll cook you a real meal.”

The bruschetta is ready just in time for Tina’s final song, a jazzy version of Bruno Mars’ That’s What I Like, and the two couples are still rocking to the beat. They all applaud on the last note and she waves off the praise with a, “Thank you for indulging me.”

They retire to the couch, pairing off along the L shape, with Tina sitting intimately close to Rossi and dropping her hand to his arm. She regales them with her wildest customer story, a man who tried to get free drinks by insisting he was friends with the owner, not realizing he was talking to her, and then he topped it off with a few too many patronizing ‘sweethearts’ that she finally just kicked him out. That’s when he got belligerent, and she introduced him soundly to the pavement. Her business is built on the comfort and safety of women, so she isn’t afraid to drag a threat out by his collar.

Rossi smoothly transitions to the time Spencer lost his fifty thousand dollars in a high stakes poker game. 

“I was up!” Spencer’s voice pitches in self-defense. “I had nearly doubled your investment, but they confiscated my chips when they removed me from the premises.”

Tina’s head cocks to the side, “And why did they remove you from the premises?”

“I was there to track down a killer, and I had to make sure I had the right man.”

Rossi decodes, “He grabbed for the guy’s good luck charm.”

Tina lets out a wide-eyed whistle, “Oh, you don’t do that.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you, but I was able to determine his identity for an arrest, and if I recall,” Spencer holds up a finger, “Rossi, you were able to recover your initial buy-in, so I would argue it was an overall success.”

“Minus ten percent,” Rossi grumbles back with a slight smile.

Light and humorous conversation flows easily among the group, with Matt absolutely dominating the subject of international travel, Kristy showing off her impressive flexibility by turning her hand a full circle against the coffee table, and JJ and Luke trading fascinating tidbits about the Middle Eastern cultures they’d been stationed near. Will even manages to fit in a few complaints about their new puppy, but his smile is too fond for anyone to take him too seriously. 

By the time Tara and Prentiss emerge, teetering on rubber legs and giggling at jokes they can’t quite remember, it’s nearly midnight. Rossi clicks on the large flatscreen already cued up to watch the ball drop up in Times Square, filling the room with the roar of anticipatory celebrants. They have a few minutes, and Will brings over a bottle of champagne to refill their glasses for the toast. 

“To the greatest group of friends an old man could ask for,” Rossi lifts his glass and the rest follow.

Tina looks around the room, “To new friends and old.”

“To adventures with happy endings,” Kristy leans into her husband’s side, and Matt adds, “To coming home, the happiest ending.”

“To family and friends,” Will starts, and JJ finishes, “And friends who are family.”

“To feeling this in the morning,” Tara stares dubiously at that bottle of scotch, the liquid level uncomfortably low, but Prentiss holds hers up with pride, “And deciding it was worth it!”

“To things only getting better from here,” Luke wraps his hand around Spencer’s, who says a bit dreamily, “Even if they’re already perfect.”

The ball drops, the music blares, and they all shout, “Happy New Year!” Their glasses clink together, bubbles sparkling gold, and they take their first sip of 2018. 

Luke and Spencer turn to each other, their eyes on each other’s lips before they lean in for that New Year’s kiss. It’s lovingly tender and champagne bright. They linger, sharing breaths as they appreciate the moment where they begin this year together. Pulling back, they stare adoringly into each other’s eyes.

“Happy New Year, Love,” Spencer whispers.

“Happy New Year, Cariño.”

“I’m bringing a date to this thing next time,” Tara watches Spencer and Luke go all adorably mushy, and Prentiss nods, “Same.”

“Thank you for throwing such a lovely party, Dave,” Will rises and extends an arm to help his wife up. “We should be heading back to our boys.”

“Ohhh!” JJ whines, and it’s not clear if it’s disappointed or adoring until she follows up with an emotional, “I love our boys!”

“We should be getting home to our munchkins, too,” Matt agrees.

Kristy adds, “The longer we leave them with my mom, the less likely it is she’ll watch them again.”

The clip-clop of tall shoes comes thundering down the hallways, Garcia pulling Sam behind her. She takes everyone in, panting heavily through kiss-swollen lips, “Did we miss it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to visit this little world I've holed myself up in. You all leave it better than you find it.


	41. Apart

For every one hundred days Spencer spends in the field, he’s required to take thirty days off to teach new recruits. It’s been one hundred days. The syllabus is long approved, the lectures planned out, the reading material assigned in advance. It was all theoretical until today, when their job forces them apart.

It starts out normally. They awaken together, get ready in their spacious master bathroom, and fix each others’ cuffs and collars for the excuse to touch. Luke drives them in. Quantico houses the BAU and the FBI Academy on the same campus, so their commute is the same. The general feeling, however, is not.

Luke parks in their usual section of the garage and they just sit there, silent, staring out the windshield at the concrete wall. When they finally speak it’s at the same time, words slamming into each other as Luke tries to encourage with, “Your students will be lucky to have you,” and Spencer laments, “I’m going to miss you.” Neither understands the other.

Luke smiles, “Let’s try that again. Your students will be lucky to have you. You’re an amazing teacher, with so much to offer.”

Spencer’s smile looks forced, which he seems to realize, so he tries again with more success, “Thank you. I have office hours between eleven and twelve-thirty in room 326. Maybe if you aren’t on a case yet, you could visit?”

“I’d love to,” Luke slides a comforting hand between Spencer’s shoulders. 

Spencer’s eyes go distant and his nose twitches, then he focuses on his boyfriend, “Stay safe. Open text policy. Remember that I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Luke leans in for one last kiss before their work personas take over. “Okay, watches.” Practiced hands quickly swap their timepieces, fingers lingering against palms. “Let’s go in.”

Spencer has a rolling briefcase, and it’s mostly empty now, but once he assigns papers it will quickly fill up. His wardrobe hasn’t changed, since he’s been dressed like an academic since his early teens, but he’s wearing his glasses to help his vision transition from his notes to the board to the students, and with that rolling briefcase, Luke sees new depth to his genius boyfriend. 

The elevator dings at Spencer’s floor first and he gives his cute little wave goodbye.

“Have a good day, Professor Reid,” Luke grins, and the smile that lifts Spencer’s face finally looks like it reaches his heart.

Luke steps into the bullpen and his eyes immediately go to Spencer’s desk. It’s ridiculous. Of course he knows Spencer won’t be there, he just dropped him off, but now he realizes how much he’ll miss him. Both at work and home, they’re rarely more than a glance away from each other, and he’s suddenly feeling something oddly akin to withdrawal. 

A soothing hand runs down his arm and he turns to see JJ frowning at Spencer’s empty desk. “It’s gonna be weird.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “It’s gonna be weird.”

Spencer has spent plenty of time in front of auditoriums of people, recruiting for the Bureau, guest-lecturing at universities, and even as a grad student years ago. He’s comfortable up there, sharing expertise and trying to make it engaging. He’s just never done it all on his own before. This is his class. The realization of weighty responsibility is hitting at an inopportune time. He’s walking up to the classroom minutes before class is to begin and he can already see seats filled within. 

He does a quick mental analysis. It isn’t stage fright he’s feeling. No, this surging sensation that twitches in his limbs and sends his heart fluttering? This is excitement. He pushes the door open and takes the stage. The students chatter amongst themselves as Spencer wheels his briefcase over to the desk.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Reid, and today we are going to discuss the identification of a psychology in distress, and work on de-escalation techniques. Of all the criminal psychology courses you can take, this is the one that will save lives.”

The auditorium is silent, every eye glued on him.

“Let’s begin.”

The team spends the morning filling out consultation requests, enjoying the comforts of the office chairs they so rarely get to plunk in. It’s relaxing, despite the images of crime scenes and the profiling of murderers, to take things at their own pace.

Luke can actually sense the moment their luck runs out. A tingle runs up his spine a second before Garcia rushes out of her office with her patented, “We have a case!” They’re briefed and given half an hour until wheels up.

“Hey, JJ,” Luke catches her before she follows the rest out of the conference room. He wiggles his car keys in the air, “I’m gonna go drop these off with Reid so he can get home tonight. Mind giving me a ride?”

“Go ahead,” she nods her permission. “I’ll meet you in the garage.”

“Thanks!” Grabbing his go-bag, he rushes down the stairs to the third floor. Spencer’s office hours should have just started so he goes straight for room 326. A group of students are coming out that door, voices loud in exhilarated conversation. Luke watches them walk off before peeking into the office to see Spencer, glasses pushed down the bridge of his nose, reading over something at his desk. Luke knocks against the doorframe, and Spencer jumps with joy to see him.

“Hi!”

“You look happy,” Luke is pleased to note.

Spencer nods animatedly, “It went well. I just had five students who were auditing request to take the class for a grade after they enjoyed today’s lecture.”

Luke feels pride like this accomplishment is his own, “Impressive.”

Spencer notices the bag over Luke’s shoulder, “You have a case.”

“Yeah, we’re heading up to Portland, Maine,” Luke sighs. “I just came to give you my car keys so you can drive home. Be careful with the accelerator, it has a kick.”

“I promise not to race your car through the Motomoros Desert,” Spencer deadpans.

Luke freezes, keys held in the air halfway between them, his jaw dropping in surprise. They don’t joke about Mexico. They don’t joke about anything to do with Spencer’s stint in prison. 

Spencer shrugs a single shoulder, “I thought that was funny.”

“It was funny!” Luke finally finds his laughter and it huffs out of him. “You just caught me off-guard there. You have a darker sense of humor than you let on.”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” Spencer quips with a coy smile.

“I love you, Cariño,” Luke opens his arms and Spencer dives in for a tight hug.

“Text me often. Let me know when you get to the hotel for the night. I love you.”

“Cuddle Roxy for me.”

“She’s going to take your whole side of the bed.”

Luke chuckles and they pull apart, keys officially transferred, “I’ll text. You text me, too.” And with that, they’re miles apart.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ We just had to use Google. Like amateurs. Everyone misses you. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I miss you all! Garcia brought me lunch while you were on the plane. I think we’re forming a “Left Behind” Club. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Hey, we’re all counting down the days until your return. For now, I hope your next class goes as well as the last one! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Thank you! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ It did! I’m already getting insightful questions. How is the case going? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ The profile is still too broad. This will take time, unfortunately. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ You’ll figure it out. I believe in you.  _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ But if you happen to find something you think I could help with, I’m still a member of the BAU, and it doesn’t count as field work if I don’t leave the office. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ You rebel! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I am simply adhering to the precise terms laid out by the Bureau.  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Twinkle twinkle, Cariño. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Stay safe! ** _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I have to take you here! We just got cheap take-out lobster rolls and they’re the best I’ve ever had. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Finally moving on from curry? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Never! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ A trip sounds nice. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ We’ll have to wait for warmer weather. There isn’t enough fleece in our closet to enjoy a Maine winter. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Are you staying warm enough? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ A detective took pity on me and loaned me a scarf and mittens. I think she might have knit them herself. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ We’re getting you more winter wear. And as much as I love lobster, maybe we should visit someplace warm.  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Right now, I’m just fantasizing about our fireplace, sitting with you on our couch. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ That’s what I’m doing, except it’s missing you. Roxy is in my lap. She was very disappointed when I came home alone, but I put on your sweatshirt and told her you’ll be home soon, and that seemed to satisfy her. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I love you in my clothes ;-) _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Caught a break!  _

Their break is a literal dead-end, with their suspect found long dead in his apartment. The unsub is playing with them, and winning. It’s infuriating, demoralizing, and six people have died to satisfy a twisted ego.

It’s well after midnight when Luke collapses onto the motel mattress. He feels no closer to catching this killer than when they’d boarded the plane, and they have to start from scratch in the morning.

The bed is too big, too cold and empty. 

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I hope I don’t wake you, but I’m in for the night. _

Luke’s phone rings only a second later, a call from Spencer, and giddiness jolts through him, “Hey, you’re awake!”

“I waited up!” Spencer’s voice comes through slightly distorted on the phone’s speaker, but the sound fills Luke with warmth. “I wanted to hear from you before I went to sleep. How are you? Is your room warm enough?”

“Yeah, it’s toasty in here.” Luke closes his eyes, shutting out everything but Spencer.

“How is the case going?”

“Not great.” He doesn’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t help but feel like if you were here we’d have this solved already.”

“I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but I’m no better at that job than anyone else on the team. It’s always tough at first, but you’ll solve it.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I’m sleeping on your pillow tonight.”

“Yeah?” The emotion that swells from that intimate confession gets caught in Luke’s throat and stings his eyes.

“If you were here, I’d be lying on your chest.”

Smiling, Luke lets his imagination bring them together in that bed, “I’d be petting your hair.”

Spencer hums contentedly, “I love when you do that.”

Luke grabs the spare pillow and hugs it to his chest, pretending he can feel Spencer’s weight and soft hair against him. “Thank you for calling. I feel a lot better.”

“Let’s stay on a little longer.”

“If I fall asleep on your, I apologize in advance.”

“I like falling asleep with you. The sound of your breathing is comforting.”

Luke sighs away the tension in his body, “I love you, Spencer.”

“And I love you,” Spencer’s voice is softer now, soothing like a lullaby. “You know, we haven’t yet seen the Doctor Who Christmas episode. I propose we start up our fireplace and make some hot chocolate. We still have some of those candy canes. We’ll get our softest blanket, and hold each other on the couch.” On that happy thought, Luke drifts off. Spencer can hear his breathing slow and shallow. “Good night, Love.”

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I hope you slept well. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I did, thanks to my awesome boyfriend. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’m glad! Stay warm. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ It turns out Detective Hamdan did knit the mittens and scarf. She brought in another set from home and now we match. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Already making friends, I see. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ We’re a woolen crime fighting duo. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ How did your morning class go? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Really well! I miss you and the team but I’m enjoying teaching even more than I thought I would. The students seem really engaged. I made a joke today and they laughed! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I’m really happy for you. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Thank you. How is the case going? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ We have some leads. Garcia is checking bank records for us and Tara is helping a witness through a cognitive. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I hope you solve it soon. I bought the ingredients. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ For curry??? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Of course for curry.  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ You’re the best! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I know. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I left your sweatshirt on the bed for Roxy to cuddle with. I came home to it in her mouth. I checked it for damage but aside from some saliva it seems unharmed. She is just carrying it around.  _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I didn’t know she missed us that much when we’re away. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ She seems in good spirits. I think she just likes having something of yours close. I can relate. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Which sweatshirt does she have? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ The green one you wear to take her on walks. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ It’s okay if she ruins that one. It’s pretty old. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Okay, I’ll let her keep it, but I’m taking the black one. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Deal, but I want a picture. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Of Roxy or of me? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I would love one of Roxy, but I meant one of you. _

Spencer manages to get them both in the shot, Roxy on the couch with that green wad between her teeth, and Spencer seated on the ground before her bundled in Luke’s black hoodie. The image is grainy but Luke’s memory upgrades the resolution, focusing on that sweet smile.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ You’re gorgeous. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Thank you, Luke. _

The case doesn’t feel quite as hopeless as it did last time Luke slid into these stiff motel sheets. There are leads to follow in the morning, more people to interview, and potential evidence sent for analysis. They’ve narrowed down the profile, but it feels like they’re one break from solving this. It’s not going to be easy to sleep with that thought tingling through his veins, but Luke isn’t looking for sleep yet.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Are you still awake? _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Yes! _

Luke taps the dial button and Spencer answers before it even rings.

“Hi, Luke!”

“It is nice to hear your voice, Cariño.”

Spencer hums his agreement. “How’s the case?”

“It’s going. Honestly, I’d rather hear about your day. How was your afternoon class? Did they like your joke, too?”

“Yes! As peer reviews go, the joke is decidedly funny.”

“Can I hear it?”

“Sure. A Freudian Slip is when you popularize such baseless theories that you inspire generations to study them just to disprove you.”

Luke snorts, “Wow, that joke is… high brow.”

“You can call it nerdy.”

“I’m just glad your students aren’t too  _ Jung _ to get it.”

Spencer inhales excitedly, “That’s great! I wish I’d thought of it!” They laugh together, enamoured by their silly word play.

“Tell me about the rest of your day,” Luke prompts. He knows they’ll need to sleep soon and he wants to feel as connected as possible before that happens.

“Well, the Left Behind Club is growing. Will invited me over for dinner with the boys. They’re still playing with their robots. Henry replaced the legs with wheels so it will travel faster, and Michael has taken his apart and lost most of the pieces already, but he likes to push one of the arms along the floor and make car noises. Chocolate Chip is mostly housebroken, and even though Will is exasperated with her at this point, it’s obvious he’s her favorite person.”

Luke is beaming, eyes closed to again pretend that they’re close, “I’m glad you had a good day, Spencer.”

“It’s better now that I can talk with you.”

“Are you sleeping on my pillow again?”

“Yes, I find it comforting. And Roxy really does take your whole side of the bed. She’s doing so right now.”

“Good dog, keeping it warm for me.”

“Solve the case tomorrow so I can keep you warm.”

Luke moans longingly at the thought. As if he weren’t already missing Spencer… “You have no idea how badly I want that.”

“I think I do.”

Luke finds himself hugging that extra pillow again, “I want to feel you in my arms.”

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer whispers like it’s a secret.

“Yes, kissing you feels so good,” Luke lets himself get lost in a montage of memories.

“I miss your hands.”

“I want to touch you.”

“I want to stroke my hand down your chest as I kiss your neck.” 

It’s a bold declaration, breathless and hot, and Luke moans his boyfriend’s name. His hands fill in the details of the fantasy, trailing lightly over his neck and down his chest. “Cariño, I want you.”

“I’m here with you.”

With his eyes closed, Luke can almost believe that. “I want to feel you against me. Your skin is so soft.”

“I love when you undress me.”

“I kiss down your chest with each button I open.”

Spencer lets out a shaky moan, “I pull you up for another kiss.”

Luke’s breath hitches, “Someone’s knocking.” The sharp raps are as effective as a cold shower.

There’s an edge of fear to Spencer’s voice, “Do you think they heard us?”

“No,” Luke sighs sadly, “there’s been another murder.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Stay safe.”

“Hey, save our spot, okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer huffs out a small laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sexy Brains.”

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Did you get any sleep? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ No, but my blood is about 80% caffeine right now, so I’m good to go. We’re following up on some witness statements and it feels like we’re getting closer.  _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’m glad! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I let everyone know we need to get this solved today so I can go home and kiss my boyfriend. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ You didn’t. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I didn’t. But I’m thinking it. A lot. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’ve been thinking about it a lot, too. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Well, now I’m thinking about it more. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Heading into class. I love you! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Your timing is terrible, but I love you, too. Go mold some minds! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I don’t want you to worry, but we think we found him and we’re splitting up between his work and home. The teams are large and skilled, and JJ has my back. I just might not be able to text for a bit, but everything will be okay. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’m going to worry. It’s different when I’m not there, but I trust you.  _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Catch him and come home to me. ** _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Will do. ** _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Please text when you can. I love you so much! _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Everything is okay! We’re all safe and he’s in custody. I love you, and we’ll be heading home soon. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Thank you! I’m so glad you’re all safe. I’ll actually be able to pay attention to the students in my office now.  _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’ll take the train home tonight and leave my car in the garage for you. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Thank you! I didn’t even think about how I was getting home. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I want you home as soon as possible. _

The BAU sticks around the Portland police department long enough to secure a confession from their stubborn serial killer, and then they’re finally boarding the jet. Home is calling each and every one of them. It’s evening when they land, the winter sun already dipping behind the horizon.

Luke finds Spencer’s Volvo where they always park and drops behind the wheel. It’s older than he is, so he’s gentle, easy on the pedals, even though he really wants to just gun it home. 

Pulling onto their street, he sees the porch light is illuminated for him, a beacon. He parks in the garage, abandoning his go-bag on the back seat in his rush inside. 

As soon as he opens the door, Luke calls into the house, “Spencer?”

“You’re home!” the excited response is muffled through the ceiling, and then Luke can hear him run down the stairs.

Roxy is faster, her four legs trumping Spencer’s two, and her dancing plea for pets simply can not be ignored. Luke gives her a quick and thorough rub-down, “Yes, I missed you, too, Rox!” She rushes off to find a toy to take out her excitement on and Luke looks up to find Spencer standing there, wearing Luke’s hoodie. Luke surges forward, not willing to wait another moment to hold his boyfriend tightly against him. “I missed you, Spencer.”

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Spencer lays a hand against Luke’s cheek and kisses him.

Luke twists them around, stepping backwards and tugging Spencer along with him toward the base of the stairs.

Spencer slips a surprised meep between their lips, not willing to separate to ask, “Are we going upstairs?”

“Mm-hmm,” Luke nips at Spencer’s lower lip. “Need you to warm me up.”

They climb the steps sideways, prioritizing connection over grace and stumbling into each other. Their laughter is contained in their kisses, their grasping arms keeping them from falling. Spencer makes it to the top first, pulling Luke toward the bedroom, “I saved our spot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for visiting! I've come down with some of those scary symptoms, and while it's likely nothing (I am so serious about masking up and socially distancing) my life just got a lot more isolated, so it's nice you're all "here."


	42. First Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got my COVID test results and I'm negative! Yay! I guess my body was just playing a trick on me? I do feel much better, so thank you for all your well-wishes :-) It was a scary week.

Spencer is seated at his desk in the library, his back to the far wall and his eyes on the stack of papers before him. He’s grading his first assignment, case analyses with inherent ethical contradictions the students need to work through, and he’s enthralled with their responses, his purple pen scrawling praise in margins as he reads. His glasses slowly slide down the bridge of his nose as he gets lost in a passionate defense of individual liberty.

“Good morning, Professor Reid!” Luke greets cheerfully from the doorway, and Spencer is smiling at the title before he even notices the steaming mugs in his hands.

“Coffee?” he asks with great hope.

Luke nods and makes his way past the book hoard to the cluttered desk, “I figured you could use some; you were up pretty early for a Saturday.”

“I wanted to get a start on these. These recruits, Luke, I’m already seeing BAU potential in some of these responses.”

“Well, yeah! They’ve got you as a teacher.”

Spencer sets down the paper in his hand, his expression softening from amazement to affection. “I love teaching, but I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy this nearly as much if you weren’t so supportive.”

Luke sets both mugs on the desk so he can safely bend for a kiss. “I’m happy you’re happy.”

Spencer smiles against Luke’s lips, “You make me happy.”

A bark from the doorway startles them both and they jolt to attention. Roxy is standing there, wagging excitedly at them, a fine white dusting over her fur.

Spencer hops to his feet, “Is that…”

“Snow,” Luke confirms brightly.

“It’s snowing?” Spencer rushes through the house to the back door and he can easily see the backyard through the generous row of windows but he needs the full experience. He pulls open the door and breathes in the frigid air, marvels at the thick blanket of snow laid over their lawn, flakes still slowly falling in the still air. He’s in awe. “Our first snow.”

“You’re shivering, Cariño,” Luke wraps a warming arm around his boyfriend’s back and shuts the winter out. “Let’s put on warmer clothes and we’ll go check it out.”

Spencer bounces on his toes, bursting with childlike glee as he leads the way upstairs. “I’ve never had my own snow before. I’ve seen snow, of course, I’ve lived here for years, but I’ve never had a yard for it to fall in before.”

“You’re gonna love it,” Luke chuckles. A mental list is forming, pulling from his childhood winter experiences, and he’s getting giddy himself just planning to introduce Spencer to such joy.

They double their socks, shoving on their thickest boots and coats. They have matching gloves and scarves, purchased after Maine, and Luke tugs one of his wool caps over Spencer’s hair. 

“I know wool is itchy, but it’s also warm.”

“Thank you,” Spencer beams, and a gloved finger wiggles under the brim to scratch at his hairline, but the hat stays on. 

Roxy is waiting by the door for them, tail still whipping back and forth to celebrate this new experience. She’s seen snow before, but like Spencer, snow has never come to her, and this is just so much better than sidewalk snow. This snow is fresh for the frolicking. She darts through her flap just as they arrive and leads them into the gentle flurry.

“The most important tradition was catching a snowflake from the first snow on your tongue,” Luke opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, waiting for that first taste.

Spencer grimaces, “Do you want me to tell you the pollutants in snow?”

Luke pulls his tongue back in. “I do not. I can tell you, however, that I’ve been doing this my whole life, and I’m still alive.” The tongue comes back out.

Spencer watches him a moment, contemplating, and takes a deep breath of courage before he tips his head back and opens his mouth. There’s a surprising speck of chill as one catches the tip of his tongue and he squeaks. “I didn’t think I’d be able to feel it, because they’re so small, but they’re so cold!” He’s giggling now, opening up for another snowflake.

Luke crunches across the frozen yard, scooping a hand through the soft powder. He turns, sees Spencer is still distracted by the snow-speckled sky, and tosses. The snowball smacks into Spencer’s hip, disintegrated on impact.

It’s an unfamiliar sensation and Spencer gasps and jumps, hands and eyes finding the remnant of melting ice on his coat, and understanding dawns. He narrows his eyes at Luke, “If you’d remember, General Washington, last we met in battle I bested you.”

“I think the colonies are due for a comeback,” Luke smirks and reaches down to build another snowball.

Spencer runs, which excites Roxy into galloping figure eights around her people, barking at them and the snow alike. Luke lobs and the ball flies straight past Spencer into the brick siding of their home. 

Spencer shouts, a mixture of surprise and delight, and tosses a frozen clump. It shocks them both when it hits Luke in the center of his chest. With the score tied, the game truly begins. Luke bends his knees, hunching down to make himself a smaller target and give his legs quicker reflexes. Spencer realizes he has no snow-based battle strategies and just runs, arms flailing as he tries to keep his balance on the slick ground. A snowball hits his leg and he falls, crashing sideways into the snow. Luke’s eyes widen in concern, but then Spencer scoops the ground into the air, spraying powder at Luke. Most sprinkles around him, but a frozen mist dances across his face. Spencer uses the distraction to scoop two more balls and lob them off before launching himself across the yard. Luke laughs, impressed and entertained, and chases after him. 

Spencer sees him sprinting after him, but he’s at the corner of the fence. He fakes left, dodges right, but Luke is ready and catches him around the waist. A surprised shout is squeezed out of him when Luke lifts him up and twirls him in a circle, before setting him back on his feet. Spencer spins in his hold, smiling bright, and throws his arms around Luke’s shoulders for a kiss. He can feel Luke melt against him, sighing warm breath against cold lips, and suddenly Spencer drops to the ground, out of Luke’s reach, and dashes off again. 

Snow flies back and forth in loose clumps as they chase each other, Roxy barking and leaping in her own version of the game. Luke sends a ball soaring across the yard at Spencer and Roxy jumps after it, all four paws leaving the earth as she zeros in on her prey, and catches the snow in her jaws. It breaks apart in her teeth before she’s even landed, and the sudden flash of cold has her spit the icy remnant out with an annoyed cough.

The spectacle freezes Luke and Spencer mid-game, their faces slack in surprise. Roxy is the first to recover, wagging off to play some more. Luke is watching her trot through some unblemished snow when cold smacks him in the arm. He turns to see Spencer looking skywards with his hands behind his back in mock innocence, and it undoes him. He collapses into the snow in a fit of laughter. 

Spencer runs over, dropping to his knees beside him, and Luke tugs him down atop his chest. They’re panting and laughing and the cold is seeping into Luke’s back and Spencer is warm and happy above him. It’s perfect. It’s been ten minutes and it’s already the most fun either of them has had in the snow. 

“I like snow,” Spencer declares with a happy giggle.

Luke rubs his hands up and down the back of Spencer’s coat, “I like snow with you.”

Spencer pulls back so he can look at Luke seriously, “I won.”

Luke throws his head back to laugh again, snowflakes landing on his face. “You did! You won!”

Spencer drops his face back to Luke’s shoulder, nuzzling in, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“You must be cold,” Spencer decides, not yet moving.

“Are you?”

“I’m not lying in snow.”

Luke tightens his hold, “I’m okay for a bit.” They lie there, listening to the pristine silence of snow and watching the flakes fall through gray sky. “Have you ever made a snow angel?”

Spencer quirks an eyebrow, “In Las Vegas? No.”

Luke snorts, “Would you like to?”

“Yes,” Spencer rolls off his boyfriend and, kneeling beside him, holds out a hand to help him up. 

The cold has stiffened Luke’s joints more than he realized and he actually needs the assistance, grunting to his feet. Most of the snow is now marred by hurried bootprints, but Luke finds a patch near the sunroom and lays back into it. Spencer follows suit, a few feet away, and then Luke guides him through the simple act of fanning their limbs. “Okay, the difficult part is getting up without ruining your angel.” Luke plants his feet firmly in his impression and rolls up onto them, flourishing his arms in pride as he hops clear. 

Spencer gives the whole process a dubious frown, but attempts to reproduce it. He gets his knees up, plants his feet, hoists, and topples sideways. He somehow misses his angel, though, so it’s technically a success, and once Luke lifts him up they can laugh and admire their work at the same time.

“I want to build a snowman!” Spencer announces with sudden determination.

“Okay!” Luke looks at the remaining snow, “He’ll be pretty short.”

“A snow child,” Spencer amends with no less excitement.

The snow is a dry powder that resists compacting, so they scoop it into a mound and end up with a snow blob. This does not deter either of their wide smiles.

“Our child,” Luke presents, tossing a bit more snow atop the ‘head.’

“She has your eyes,” Spencer deadpans.

Luke chuckles, then has an idea, “Oh! Let’s see what we have in the kitchen to build her a face.”

“Yes!” Spencer hops toward the door, and they have to muster a bit of patience while they untie and shove off their boots, but then they’re excitedly running toward their fridge. “Baby carrots!” Spencer holds up the bag. “For the nose!”

“Perfect! And we can do this green bean for the mouth.” He sets the chosen vegetables on the counter and rummages through their pantry, “And these almonds for the eyes.”

They adorn their darling lump, and Luke names her “Coldilocks.” Spencer decides that means she should at least have hair, so they go back inside and return with macaroni to stick into the top as blonde curls. It’s hideous and they couldn’t be more proud. 

“How long before Roxy destroys this?” Luke asks rhetorically. 

Spencer frowns, “Is it weird that I feel protective of her?”

Luke loops an arm around Spencer’s shoulders and smirks, “Maybe a little.”

Laughing self-consciously, Spencer bows his head for a second before recovering, “So what other snow activities are there?”

“There’s snow ice cream.”

“What’s that?”

“You scoop up snow and add egg, sugar, and cream.”

Spencer scrunches his nose, “It was a big step for me to eat falling snow. I am not eating it off the ground.”

Luke expected nothing less and his laughter proves it. “Well, there’s my favorite activity.”

“What’s that?”

“Cuddling up in front of the fire.”

“Ooh, yes!” Spencer bounces joyfully, “Let’s do that!”

They wave goodbye to their creation and shake the fresh snow from their hats and coats. Their damp clothing hangs to dry in their laundry room and they change into their coziest outfits. Spencer brings the mugs of coffee, now long cold, back from the library to refill from the percolator and they snuggle in under their softest blanket to watch the flickering flames.

In her canine wisdom, Roxy drops down directly before the fireplace, and Spencer kind of wishes he thought of that.

“Your hands are still cold,” Luke notices, taking them to his lips to blow warmth over Spencer’s chilled fingers. After a few more breaths, he holds them against the heat of his chest.

“Thank you,” Spencer says softly, touched by the gesture.

“Are you warm enough?”

Spencer scoots closer, “I’m getting there.”

Luke leaves Spencer’s hands against his chest and wraps his arms around to pull him into his side, warming Spencer’s whole being. “That was fun.”

“Mm-hmm!”

“I’m gonna have to challenge you to a rematch, though.”

“No, I think I’ll keep my title,” Spencer smirks, head resting on Luke’s shoulder.

“I guess I’ll have to plan a sneak attack,” Luke teases, his hands rubbing up and down Spencer’s spine.

“Well, now I know it’s coming.”

“I’ll make it a very good sneak attack.”

“You wouldn’t attack me. You love me.”

“I have to win for America, Spencer.”

Spencer shakes his head, his eyelids growing heavy and his speech slowing, “No, you love me more.”

“I love you most,” Luke drops a kiss to Spencer’s curls. “Are you falling asleep?”

Spencer nods, “You’re warm and comfortable.”

Luke leans back into the armrest, pulling Spencer on top of him, “I think a nap is a genius idea.”

“I’m a genius,” Spencer mumbles against Luke’s chest.

“Yes, you are, Cariño.”

“And I won the snowball fight.”

Luke chuckles, “Yes, you did.”

“And I love you most, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, for visiting!


	43. Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is totally a game of Spot The Disney Reference.

A heavy load of cases and ambitious coursework make the month apart race by, and Spencer is back at his desk in the BAU bullpen in time for Valentine’s Day. Luke is wearing a red shirt and there are hearts on one of Spencer’s socks, but other than that, they play it very cool. That is, until the first delivery arrives. Two bouquets float through the lobby in the looped arms of their receptionist, Donna. She sets them down upon their plain glass vases atop Luke and Spencer’s desks with a sunny, “Happy Valentine’s Day!” and clicks her kitten heels back to the elevator.

Luke’s red, pink, and white arrangement comes with a small card, and it’s in someone else’s penmanship, but he knows they’re Spencer’s words: “Red roses because I will always love you. Lilies of the Valley because you have made my life complete. Forget-Me-Nots for the memories I look forward to creating with you. I love you more every day, Luke. Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Spencer.” Luke brings the note to his chest, holding it over his heart as he admires the flowers, before looking over at his boyfriend.

Spencer’s vase is filled with branches of bright red Kennedia. He unfolds the card, expecting a joke about his sexy brains, and reads: “Spencer, meeting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re my missing puzzle piece, the vanilla in my pancake recipe. I don’t think I truly knew what happiness was before you told me you love me. You’re my home, my joy, and the future we build together will be beautiful for having you in it. With every life we save, I’m still cashing in those karma coins for us. Thank you for coming into my life. I love you most. Happy Valentine’s Day, Cariño! -Luke.”

The lock eyes from their seats, Spencer mouthing, “Wow,” and Luke blinking back misty emotion. They smile at each other, for a moment alone in the vast universe, and then the sounds of the office bring them back to this dimension. They’re supposed to be working on consultations, so they push their Valentine bouquets to the edges of their workspaces and bury their noses back in those files. 

“Someone has some smitten sweethearts!” Donna cheers as she pops back into the bullpen with two white boxes. Luke and Spencer look at each other in surprise, then affection. They each ordered the chocolates in secret, meaning it to be a surprise and not expecting a box in return. They’re from the very chocolatier Spencer went to when he told Luke he loved him, a personal touch to the ubiquitous tradition of gifting chocolate to a valentine. 

“Coconut?” Luke checks hopefully, and Spencer replies with a cheery nod. Luke smiles, pointing at Spencer’s box, “I got you the Sweet Sensations variety.”

Spencer strokes a finger along the lid longingly, imagining that hazelnut cream and raspberry compote and all the other delights stuffed in chocolate. It’s too early for candy, he’ll make himself sick, but he keeps the box close as a happy reminder. He looks back at Luke, who’s still smiling at him, and mouths, “Thank you.” After all, they are at work and their relationship isn’t exactly sanctioned, so discretion should at least be attempted.

When Luke mouths back, “Happy Valentine’s Day,” it sends a thrill through Spencer’s core. He’s never had a valentine, hasn’t received a card for the occasion since elementary school when universal dispersal was compulsory and the sentiments were cartoon-themed puns. Today, there’s champagne chilling in their fridge at home and he’s poured his heart into a love letter tucked into Luke’s bedside table. There are still sweet gifts arriving, and he’s in love and loved in return.

These consultation files are not receiving the attention they deserve.

It’s only half an hour before Donna returns, gift bag swinging from her manicured fingers, “Looks like someone’s extra popular today,” she sing-songs as she drops the bag next to Luke’s flowers.

“Thank you, Donna.”

“Sure thing,” she heads down to her desk, but she’ll be back.

Luke’s nose is already telling him what’s in that bag, but he has to pluck out the tissue paper to be sure. “Hand To Hand Coffee! The Kenyan Medium Roast, my favorite! Thank you!”

“Ooh, fancy coffee,” JJ perches herself on Luke’s desk, empty mug conspicuously balanced on her knee. “Want to share?”

Luke hops up with his bag of beans, “You’ve got to try this. Do we have a grinder?”

“Top shelf in the cabinet.”

Luke has to climb on a chair to reach it, and the dust of ancient grounds still rests upon its blades, but soon enough their percolator exudes the floral and chocolatey aromas of a fine African roast. The elevator dings and Luke turns in time to see the increasingly familiar scene of Donna entering the bullpen, this time holding a woven basket of citrus. He bounces giddily on his toes; this is the gift he’s most excited for Spencer to see.

“Someone sure likes you, Hon,” Donna sets the basket by Spencer’s elbow.

“Thank you, Donna,” is out of his mouth before he’s even looked up from his file, and then his eyes get stuck on this newest treasure. It’s his favorite fruit, nay, his favorite  _ food. _ Face shining, Spencer turns to Luke, “Kumquats!”

Luke is puffed with pride, “Do I know you or what?”

Tara takes a sip of that fancy coffee as she strolls up the catwalk, leaning against the banister beside Prentiss, “This coffee is good, but I have half a mind to steal those chocolates from right under their heart-shaped eyes.”

Prentiss taps her mug to Tara’s in conspiratorial agreement, “I’ll distract Reid with an inaccurate statistic. You hit Luke by asking to see pictures of his dog.”

“Leave them be,” Rossi chides as he emerges from his office behind them, resting his arms on the banister by his boss. “They’re in love and deserve this honeymoon phase.”

Tara smirks, “Honeymoon phase, huh?”

“What can I say?” Rossi smiles to himself. “I love love.”

“Oh, so you’re just a romantic,” Tara quips, unconvinced. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with things going well with a particular nightclub owner? Maybe a honeymoon phase of your own?”

Rossi’s eyebrows jump and he has to hold back a smile, “All I’m saying is, we see enough negativity in a day. Let’s just embrace the joy.”

“You want to embrace joy?” Prentiss points to the white box on Spencer’s desk, from which her attention has not yet wavered, “Those chocolates are from Bonnie’s and they’re pure heaven.”

The elevator chimes open and Donna again trots on out with a package. This is about to be too much. Lover’s Holiday or not, this is a place of business, of serious business, and they can’t just sprout a gift shop on their desks where they should be profiling serial killers-

“This one is for the whole BAU team!” Donna announces, holding a large pink box at the edge of the bullpen.

Spencer rises to relieve her, sliding his arms beneath the box, “Thank you so much, again, Donna. The first one is for you, for delivering all this to us. We really appreciate it. Happy Valentine’s Day!” He pops open the lid to reveal an assortment of donuts with enough pink and red sprinkles to decorate the office. 

Luke stands to address the team, “We wanted to share the holiday with all of you with something sweet.”

“Valentine’s Day is about love,” Spencer sets the donuts on the lunch table, leaving the box open in clear invitation, “and we love all of you. So happy Valentine’s Day!”

Matt hops up quickly to snag a glazed while JJ hunts for her maple bar.

Rossi quirks a judgmental eyebrow at Tara and Prentiss, an expression they both refuse to meet, “Would you look at that? Donuts.”

“I suppose they can keep their chocolates,” Tara says directly into her fancy coffee.

Garcia’s chunky heels against the thin carpet announce her arrival. Her tone is urgent when she calls, “We’ve got-” but then she’s immediately distracted by the festive confections, “donuts?”

“I assume we’ll be eating them on the plane?” Prentiss prompts her tech genius, rising to her full height in that leadership pose.

“We have a case,” Garcia confirms with a touch of that guilt for bearing bad news, but custard filling will cure that.

The team is met on the tarmac by officers of the Jackson, Mississippi police department and whisked off to the surrounding wilderness. The small fleet of SUVs traverses old logging and fishing roads through the densely-treed back country until they come to a clearing illuminated red and blue by patrol cars.

As soon as the team opens their doors, the lead detective rushes over to them, her black uniform crisp and badge pinned high, “I’m Detective Megat. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“We’re glad to help,” Prentiss matches the detective’s hurried pace as they’re guided to the dump site. A team of forensic scientists is flashing photographs and tweezing evidence into bags around a small stone structure.

Megat immediately brings them up to speed, “Land development firm sent a couple surveyors out here, and they came across this two hundred year old homestead. The house is long gone but the old root cellar is still standing. Surveyors noticed the lock is new, though that was strange, and when they peaked through cracks in the door they found the bodies.”

Sheltered from the elements in the centuries-old cellar, six bodies lie face-up on the compacted dirt. They all appear to be women with long dark hair, some dead for years, but the closest woman couldn’t have died more than a day ago. She seems almost asleep, her face peaceful and body unmarred.

The tight space permits only two to enter at a time, so Reid and Tara are sent in first. They’re hit with a musky chill, the scent of forgotten earth. The bodies are evenly spaced across the ground, organized kills. 

Tara kneels by a body, gloved hands hovering, “If we assume these were the victims’ clothes, I’m seeing short skirts and lingerie on some, perhaps they were prostitutes, and these two in tattered layers could be transient. Both high risk victims.”

Spencer shines a flashlight on the body in the furthest corner, which appears to be the oldest, and balances on the balls of his feet to crouch over her, “They’re posed with their arms folded over their chests, and they’re all holding fresh roses. I see older petals underneath, some dried stems…” Spencer twirls around to face his team through the open doorway, “I think our unsub adds new flowers with every new victim.”

They take turns in the cellar, learning what they can from the bodies before the coroner comes to claim them. She’ll be able to provide Garcia with the information needed for identification. Until then, they comb over the landscape with local law enforcement. When night steals their light they continue brainstorming at the police station, studying maps and building a profile until the coffee maker dries up.

The hotel is clean and has beds, and that’s about all they require by this point. Prentiss handles the details at the desk and doles out a key to everyone, until she gets to Luke and Spencer. There’s only one key left and she presses it into Luke’s palm with a smile between the two of them, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Their eyebrows raise in unison, sending Prentiss laughing to the elevator behind the rest of the team.

“We’re rooming together,” Luke summarizes, surprise still in his voice.

Spencer nods, slowly at first, then he realizes, “We just saved the federal government seventy-five dollars.”

“Well, good for us!” Luke loops his arm around Spencer’s waist, “Come on, Valentine.”

They shower away the grime of the day, with enough energy to wash each others’ hair. As they pull on their sleepwear, Spencer starts to let his thoughts on the case spill out, “There’s something about those roses. The unsub didn’t just lay them on his victims’ chests; some of the petals were intentionally ripped out and scattered over them.”

“I noticed that, too,” Luke says, just to let Spencer know he’s following. The problem with being a genius is sometimes your train of thought leaves the station without any passengers.

“They could symbolize his victims, but he didn’t desecrate their bodies. Maybe they’re gifts, denoting ownership, and he’s accelerating their decay to speed their transition to his victims in the afterlife.”

Luke slides into bed, pulling down the covers as an invitation for Spencer to join him.

Spencer paces a lap around the room before dropping onto the mattress, brow still furrowed, “The rose on the oldest body wasn’t any more desecrated than the one on the newest body, so it didn’t have anything to do with matching their state of decay.”

Luke slowly draws a gentle hand down Spencer’s arm.

“He treats his victims like a collection, like a bouquet… but in a root cellar…”

Luke slips his fingers into Spencer’s hair, combing through his damp curls, “It’s not gonna be easy to shut that brain off tonight, is it?”

Spencer turns to Luke, eyes round with guilt, “I’m sorry, you need sleep! I’ll stop.”

“No, no,” Luke soothes his palm over Spencer’s cheek, “I’m not complaining. I’m offering you a back rub, to help you relax. You need sleep, too.”

“Really?” Spencer perks right up. “I’d love that!” He flips onto his stomach, resting his cheek on his folded arms to gaze up at his boyfriend.

Luke pets softly along Spencer’s spine, but then a thought triggers a frown, “Hey, you know that wasn’t me shutting you up, right? I love you, and everything you have to say.”

“I know, I’m not offended. I love you, too. Please commence with the back rub.”

Bending low, Luke chuckles into the kiss he plants on Spencer’s temple. He begins to work his magic, hands easing muscles through the soft cotton shirt. Spencer sighs, melting into the sheets, his eyes already fluttering shut. Luke presses his thumbs into the warm skin at Spencer’s neck, earning him a happy moan.

“You really do love me.”

“Of course I do.” Luke continues his ministrations, hands pressing just enough to relieve tension before softening their touch into pure comfort, and Spencer hums his bliss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Luke,” his voice is slurred with nearing sleep, a smile on his lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Spencer.”

The team is back at the police station bright and early, and Detective Megat is already there to greet them with a full pot of coffee. With fresh eyes, they plan their day of canvassing homeless encampments and red light districts, and sifting through missing persons reports. 

A woman shouting in reception captures their attention, “I told you but you wouldn’t listen!”

One of the officers lets out a ragged sigh, “Not her again.”

Prentiss turns to him, “Who’s that?”

“Looney Lacey,” comes the derisive response. “She gets herself high enough to see monsters then makes us file a report about them.”

“We’re looking for someone who targets the transient community,” JJ counters. “Perhaps she’s seen something.”

“Dragons and dancing teapots is what she’s seen.” The officer scrapes his chair on the linoleum on his way up, “I’ll see what she wants to hurry her along.”

“Actually,” Spencer steps forward, “I’d like to speak with her, if you don’t mind. Sometimes even hallucinations can be helpful.”

The officer lifts his hands, now clean of this mess, “Be our guest.”

Interviewing someone under the influence of hallucinogens is dangerous, so there’s no way Luke is letting his love go alone. He sends a quick glance to his boss, the request in his eyes perhaps bordering on a beg. Prentiss nods, asking him to keep her updated, and then Luke is off to follow Spencer across the precinct.

Lacey is fuming at the front desk, red in the face and flames in her eyes, “You’re still not listening to me! I saw those women on the news and I demand to speak with someone!”

“I’ll speak with you,” Spencer rounds the partition separating the bullpen from the public, hand twitching in his little wave. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, and this is my partner Agent Luke Alvez. We’re with the FBI.”

She appraises them, eyes traveling up and down, “You’re here because of those women with the roses?”

They didn’t know that detail got out, but the press has scooped them before. Luke nods, face serious, “Yes.”

She looks to Luke, then settles with more comfort on Spencer, “I’m Lacey White. The man who hurt them? He took me, too.”

They’re visibly surprised but recover quickly and usher her into an interview room. There are three chairs, two on one side of the table and one on the other. Spencer sits and pulls the chair out next to him for Lacey. He doesn’t want her to feel interrogated, like a criminal. They’re on the same side here.

Lacey grips the hem of her jean jacket, squeezing the rigid cloth to self-soothe. It’s clear she isn’t high, just nervous. “I knew it was him as soon as I heard about those roses. It’s what I can remember the most from that night.”

“We’d appreciate everything you can remember,” Luke encourages. “Even things that seem insignificant.”

“It’s hazy…” Lacey’s fists tighten, “I know I’ve done some crazy things, but I wasn’t high that night. I’d just been arrested that week on a really bad trip and I was trying to clean myself up. I swear.”

“We believe you,” Spencer says sincerely, and Lacey’s hands instantly relax in her lap.

She squints, watching the memory play out in her mind, “I was in Smith Park. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was lying on a bench when I saw him walking over. I thought he was a doctor. He had on one of those blue masks they wear, you know? It was late, but I thought he was doing outreach for the clinic. They offer testing and stuff, trying to do their part or whatever.” She scratches at the crook of her elbow, an itch that won’t go away. “He came up to me and I felt this prick…” Her fingers ghost over that spot on her shoulder where she can still feel the phantom pinch of his syringe. “I know what a needle feels like. He drugged me. I must have passed out because I remember waking up in a… house? Cabin, maybe? There was a lot of wood and it smelled old. He handed me a rose. I remember because I pricked my finger on a thorn.” She stares down at her index finger, the wound long gone but still visible in her mind, and falls silent.

Spencer and Luke don’t press. They’re silent as well, patient.

Lacey bites her lip, blinking back moisture, and her voice comes out a tight whisper, “He was going to kill me.”

Spencer lays his hand on the table before her, there if she wants it. It’s something he remembers Luke doing for him when he was drowning in emotion, and it helped keep him afloat, just knowing it was there. “You got away, Lacey. You survived.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing in contemplation, “I don’t think he expected me to get up. Whatever he dosed me with, I’d already built up a tolerance or something.”

“You ran?” Luke clarifies.

Her eyes are distant, mind back on that night, “He took off that mask. I know I told the cops he looked like a beast and I know that sounds like crazy talk, but… his face, it was all messed up. His cheek was all caved in and his jaw wasn’t all there. I could see inside his head…” A chill runs down her spine, the horror of the memory stealing her breath. She doesn’t realize she’s grabbed Spencer’s hand until he’s squeezing back, firm and reassuring.

“I know this is difficult,” Spencer keeps his voice soft, “but you’re doing so well. Anything you tell us can help us find him.”

“They made me think I made it up!” The tears surprise her, stinging her eyes before slipping down her cheeks. “The officers out there, I know what they call me, Looney Lacey. I probably deserve it. I know what I was like. But all those women… I could have done something.”

“You’re doing something now. He’s still out there and you can help us stop him. Just tell us what else you remember.” Luke has his phone on his thigh, discretely texting the team details as Lacey provides them.

Lacey stares down at her hand wrapped around Spencer’s, “He asked me something. It was strange. He asked if I loved him. I didn’t even know him. Then he took off that mask… I don’t really remember anything but,” she waves her hand at her jaw. “I freaked out. I was still a little out of it, and he told me to drink something to make me feel better. Apple juice, I think. I only smelled it. There was something off, though. Again, I don’t think he was expecting me to get up like I did, and then I just shoved past him and ran. I don’t even remember if he chased after me, I just remember trees. I don’t know how long I was running, but then I saw these lights. It was a bar, The Drunken Mermaid, on the edge of town. There were these guys smoking outside and I tried to tell them what happened, but I must have sounded crazy. I was freaking out. They called the cops. No one believed me. Even I…” She sighs, shaking her head with determination, “I didn’t make it up.”

“You didn’t,” Spencer confirms, because she clearly needs to hear it. “Lacey, could you go back to that moment when you escaped? Any detail you can give us about where you were can help us find him.”

Frowning, she shakes her head, “Like I said, it’s mostly a blur.”

“I’d like to try to help you remember. Could you close your eyes?”

She chews her lip, hesitant, staring down at her lap where her fingers are clutched tight in denim.

Spence squeezes reassurance into her other hand, “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t let go.”

With a shaky breath, her eyes fall closed.

“I want you to think back to the moment you shoved past him. You said it smelled old.”

“Yeah. Moldy. Like when you crash in an abandoned house, but there was furniture.”

“That’s good. What do you hear?”

Her brow furrows as she recalls, “There’s a fire… It’s close, I can feel the warmth.”

“You push past him. What do you see?”

“A door.”

“Do you see anything else?”

“No, I just see that door so I run for it. It’s so dark I can barely see… There are trees…” Her breath hitches, voice strained with emotion, “I don’t know! I just ran! I was so scared!”

“It’s okay. You’re doing great. I’m right here. You’re safe now.” The platitudes slip from Spencer in a calming whisper.

She nods, eyes still squeezed shut as more tears slip out, then she inhales sharply, “Gemini!”

“Gemini?”

Her eyes pop open with realization, “I saw Gemini! It’s my constellation, so I followed it.”

Spencer computes in his mind, “That would have put you heading almost due east.”

“I don’t know how long I ran. I lost time. I just remember seeing the lights of that bar through the trees. I’m sorry I don’t remember more!”

“What you gave us was great, Lacey. We’ll be able to narrow down a location because of you.”

“Lacey,” Luke cuts in, setting his phone face-down on the table, “our team searched hospital records for the injury you described, and we think we might have found him. Would you be willing to look at a picture to tell us if it’s him?”

Her nails dig crescents into Spencer’s palm, but she nods.

Luke flips the phone over, that image already up, and he slides it across the table.

She releases her jacket, hand hovering over that image, about to pick it up while blocking it from view. Another squeeze to Spencer’s hand gives her courage. She gasps, eyes wide, “That’s him!

“You’re sure?” Luke checks.

“I’m sure. I’ll never forget that…” She sets the phone down, looking at Luke, “What happened to him?”

“Hunting accident. He took a bullet to the face.”

She winces at the thought. “And then he killed all those women.”

Luke’s phone chirps and he reaches across the table for it. “Garcia got an address.”

“You found him?” A violent tremor shakes Lacey’s body as she shrinks in on herself.

“I’ll stay with you,” Spencer soothes, tightening his grip just enough to remind her of their connection. “I won’t leave until he’s arrested, okay?”

She looks up at him, face equally surprised and grateful, “Really? Oh, thank you so much!” Her shoulders droop, head bowing, body finally relaxing.

Luke is on his feet, gearing for the hunt. He taps the watch on his wrist, Spencer’s silver timepiece, and Spencer nods in understanding. They lock eyes, share a moment, and then Luke hurries off to catch a killer.

“Was that a code?” Lacey asks, gliding a finger over the black watch Spencer is wearing.

“Yes. Our job can be dangerous, so that’s our promise to each other that we’ll do what we can to stay safe.”

“You and your partner must be very close.”

“Yes,” Spencer smiles down at that watch, “we are.”

“I’ve spent the past year thinking I made it all up, that the nightmares were just my imagination, just the drugs messing with my brain. It’s what got me to finally quit for real. I’ve been sober since that night. He killed those other women, but he ended up saving my life.”

_ “You _ saved your life, Lacey.”

It’s a text message from Luke that finally lets Lacey know the beast of her nightmares can no longer cause harm. She hugs Spencer with all the strength it took to get her life back.

There is a natural high that comes from cases that end in a happily ever after, and Luke and Spencer are still riding it when they return home with their Valentine hoard. They set everything on their washing machine as they step inside, because Roxy needs all four hands for her affectionate greeting. She wiggles her way in toward the kitchen, excited to show them her dog-sitter, who is currently filling the water bowl at the sink. She’s hard of hearing, not completely deaf, but enough so that she didn’t hear them arrive.

Spencer steps into her line of sight, hand up in a wave, “Hi, Shanita!”

“Oh!” she jumps, a bright smile filling her face as she turns to face them both. “You’re home!”

“How was she?” Luke asks, mostly to prompt praise for his pup.

“She was an angel, just like Janie said she was!” Her hands automatically sign her spoken words, and Spencer watches intently, determined to learn at least some common phrases of this language.

“Well, you’re clearly doing a great job. Roxy is as happy as can be. Thank you so much.” Luke takes out his wallet to pay her. She waves goodbye, bending down to bless Roxy with some quality ear scratches before leaving.

“Thank goodness Janie recommended her. She’s wonderful.” Spencer brings in their flowers to brighten up the kitchen counter. “So, do you know what tonight is?”

“Thursday?”

Spencer steps into Luke’s space, resting his hands against his chest, “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, are we stretching that out?” Luke chuckles.

“Mmm-hmm,” Spencer leans in for a kiss.

“And what did you have in mind?”

“We have champagne in the fridge,” Spencer kisses him again. “And strawberries. And chocolates.” He adds with increased excitement, “And kumquats.”

Luke’s laughter eases into an affectionate smile, “You want me to feed you strawberries, Valentine?”

Spencer nods enthusiastically, his smile crinkling his eyes, “And kumquats!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being here! Everyone stay safe and healthy out there, and if you're anywhere near where I live, avoid the fire tornadoes. What is happening, 2020?


	44. Mine

Richard Ivarson is a brute who enjoys beating people to death with his bare hands. He’s a hulking figure, red with rage, so even surrounded by law enforcement, he’s not going down without a fight. His eyes narrow on a slender physique - Spencer is just his type. He can already imagine his fists bruising that pale skin, ripping it open to spill hot blood. With a roar, he lunges.

Spencer takes a defensive stance, weapon aimed. He doesn’t have a chance to shoot.

Luke leaps into action, gripping Richard by the back of the neck and forearm. Using the killer’s forward momentum, Luke shoves him down, bending him in half with his face toward the ground and his wrist twisted painfully behind him. Luke’s voice is a menacing growl in Richard’s ear, “Do not move, you will only hurt yourself.”

With Richard shouting out in rabid fury, Spencer stalks forward, yanking back Richard’s other arm to cuff him. They hand the prisoner to local police for the arrest, mission accomplished.

“Nicely done,” Prentiss praises, eyes flashing between Luke and Spencer.

“Yeah,” Matt huffs out a laugh and claps Luke on the shoulder, “remind me to never mess with you.”

Luke looks over at Spencer, wordlessly checking in, and sees those wide eyes looking dazed. He closes the distance between them and grips Spencer’s hand. A tremor runs through Spencer’s body, his lips jumping in a quick smile before he squeezes back. Luke can’t tell what’s wrong, so he just stays close. He’s not about to embarrass his boyfriend by attracting attention over this, but if something is bothering him he wants it clear he’s here for him.

Spencer is silent on the drive to the airport, his leg jumping on jittery toes. Luke rests a calming hand on his knee and feels his muscles tense. Leaning in, he whispers so only Spencer can hear, “You good?”

The response is a sharp nod and clenched smile. It isn’t immensely convincing, but then Spencer laces their fingers together over his stilled thigh and his smile is a fraction brighter.

They sit apart from the team on the jet, alone in their corner while everyone else rests miles in the air. Spencer is still silent, eyes distant with his mind, and Luke’s brain starts running an analysis. Spencer was singled out by a serial killer. It’s enough to upset anyone. It’s also possible he’s uncomfortable about being saved. Of course, he didn’t  _ need _ saving. He was ready to defend himself, Luke just acted on instinct and since he was closer he got there first.

Luke’s mind lands on the last time Spencer faced that kind of danger. In prison, he was locked up with violent murderers just like Richard Ivarson, men who were bigger and stronger and liked to take advantage of that. They hurt him, made him defenseless and left him beaten. What a terrible memory to face.

Luke slides his hand over Spencer’s arm and feels him tremble and inhale sharply. He doesn’t pull away, so Luke slowly closes his hand around Spencer’s and leans in to press a kiss to his temple.

Spencer leans into the touch, an approving sound emerging from deep in his throat before he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Luke sighs, breath dancing in Spencer’s hair.

Luke needs to make Spencer feel safe. He needs to combat every negative thing about prison and bundle his love in comfort. They’ll adorn themselves in their coziest clothes, nothing like that stiff incarceration denim. They’ll grab a soft blanket and Luke will hold Spencer against his chest on their couch, petting his back in that way that makes Spencer melt. They’ll break into a bag of milk chocolate chips, purchased every time for baking yet always consumed as candy.

They’ll shut out the dangers of the world, and maybe crack a window so the fresh air can remind Spencer he’s free. Luke will touch him with gentle love and care, and make sure Spencer feels protected in his arms.

Their bags are tossed in the back of the Subaru and Luke drives them home. He can feel Spencer watching him, eyes on his arms as he steers and his face as he watches for traffic. At a red light, Luke turns to him and asks, just to plant the seed in his mind, “You know you’re safe with me, right?”

“Of course,” Spencer’s nod is adamant, which Luke appreciates. He doesn’t want there to be any doubt.

The garage door lifts open, their house welcoming them home. They drop their go-bags in the laundry room for a fluffy reunion with Roxy, praising her for just being a dog until she’s soaked up enough and trots off. 

Luke turns to discuss tonight’s cuddle plan and finds Spencer is much closer than expected. Spencer grips Luke’s biceps and presses him back into the dryer. Before Luke’s brain catches up, Spencer is kissing him, needy and frantic and so, so hot. “Sorry,” he pants into Luke’s open mouth, “I couldn’t hold it back anymore.” He kisses him again, one hand still squeezing that toned arm as the other tangles in Luke’s hair, holding his face in place to control the kiss. His lips move with hunger, devouring Luke’s mouth with desperate moans and hot breath. Spencer presses into Luke and cries out, “So hot!”

Luke has been happy to just let himself be kissed, but his brain turns back on with the click of a mental light, “Is this because I took down that unsub?”

Spencer moans again, low and wanting, his head tossing in wild affirmation. His hands pet down Luke’s arms, still lavishing attention to those biceps, “You’re so strong.”

Luke wraps those arms around Spencer for a tight hug. This evening isn’t going  _ at all _ how he planned and he needs a moment to adjust. “You know you’re safe, yeah?” He’s already confirmed this, but it’s important.

Spencer drags his nose along the line of Luke’s jaw, “You keep me safe.”

Luke’s hands slide down Spencer’s back, “And you keep me safe.”

“Always. Love you,” Spencer traces his tongue around the shell of Luke’s ear, and it’s Luke’s undoing. He’s boneless against that dryer as pleasure washes over him. His hands move of their own accord, practiced strokes where they know Spencer likes to be touched, to pull those moans and mewls out that blend with his own. He’s so lost in sensation he almost misses Spencer breathlessly say, “I know you’d have done that for anyone, it’s who you are and I love that about you, but you did it for _ me.” _

“I did it for you because you’re mine.”

Spencer’s breath hitches and stops, and he pulls back to meet Luke’s eyes with lust-blown pupils before surging forward to claim Luke’s mouth with fevered kisses.

“Mine,” Luke whispers against Spencer’s lips, feeling the vibration of his moan against his own. “He wasn’t gonna touch you. I won’t let anyone hurt you, because you’re mine.”

“Yours!” Spencer gasps out, nodding vigorously. “I’m yours!”

Luke pulls him possessively against him, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“You’re mine,” Spencer moans and presses his face against Luke’s throat to suck the sensitive flesh there, whispering between each wet pop, “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Luke cries out when Spencer sucks a dark mark just above his collarbone, “Love you so much! Spencer!” They move against each other, crashing waves of pleasure.

Spencer’s fingers slide under Luke’s shirt, exploring the familiar contours of his abs, and then he’s pulling the fabric up, over Luke’s head and tossing the shirt behind him, “Here or bed?”

Luke’s blood is rushing away from his higher brain and he doesn’t compute, “What?”

Spencer grips Luke’s belt buckle, his eyes burning with lust as they meet Luke’s, “Choose quickly.”

The words snap into place and he pushes into Spencer’s body until they’re away from the appliances and leans in for a lingering kiss. He slides his hand into Spencer’s and leads the way out of the laundry room. 

They don’t get past the kitchen island before Spencer tugs Luke back into him, holding him from behind and sliding kisses along his bare shoulder. His voice comes out a desperate, breathy whine, “Luke!”

Luke spins around to claim Spencer with a hand in his hair and mouths crashing together. Arm wrapped around Spencer’s hips and their lips still fused, Luke walks them back toward the stairs. He guides blindly, relying on memory until he collides with the banister, but it’s barely a distraction. They race up the stairs, sending their shoes flying down the steps behind them, and close out Roxy because she can be too curious sometimes.

Pressed against their bedroom door, they both work on Spencer’s layers, loosening his tie, unbuttoning his vest, sliding his belt from its loops. They get impatient, collapsing into bed with Spencer’s clothing open but not removed, and Luke glides soft touches along that newly exposed skin.

“Mine,” Luke repeats, earning a needy moan.

“Yours!”

“Mine to love,” Luke splays his hand over Spencer’s heart, then bends down for a kiss. “Mine to protect. Mine to touch.”

Spencer arches into his warmth, laid open beneath him. “I want to always be yours. Only yours.” The words take courage. It’s so much easier to promise forever than to look someone in the eye and ask for it.

Luke caresses Spencer’s cheek, brushing their lips together, “I want that, too.”

Spencer throws his head back in silent request and Luke immediately obliges, dragging teeth and tongue along the thrum of his pulse point. Spencer gasps in ecstasy, body bucking up, demanding more. Luke gives, seeking out that spot where neck meets shoulder and Spencer is keening, body rigid and fingers clinging tight to Luke’s arms.

With a shuddering breath, Spencer flips them over, straddling Luke’s hips and dropping forward for a passionate kiss. “Need you.”

Luke’s moan shifts into a possessive growl, “Tell me.”

“Touch me.”

Their hands are everywhere, leaving trails of warmth as desire shivers through them. Lips drip kisses and puffs of breath against wanting flesh. Whispers and moans of “yours” and “mine” spill between them and they drink in the intoxication, the heat of their words searing them into their souls. They belong to each other, claimed in heart, mind, and body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe... dryer humping... I'm immature and love puns, so this is making me giggle A LOT.
> 
> This chapter is a chiltepin pepper, tiny and spicy. Thank you all for sticking around for almost 150K words! It's so exciting knowing I can reach out with this story and someone is reading it :-)


	45. Left Behind

Spencer rushes out of the den thrumming with excitement, “Luke!”

Luke lifts his face over the back of the couch and sits up, “Yeah?”

“I just got an email!” explodes from his mouth as he hops on the cushions.

“You hate email.”

“I do, but this was good news. Apparently,” his hands raise to help him tell the story with flourishing fingers, “the waitlist for my class reached the threshold required to move me to the larger auditorium.” He’s wiggling in his seat, about to burst.

“That’s great!” Luke’s face lights up with a bright smile. He opens his arms and Spencer falls into them, hugging tight.

“They like my class!”

“ _ Of course _ they do, you’re amazing!”

Spencer slides his palm along Luke’s cheek, and then he’s kissing him. The press of his lips is sweet, and exuberance slips in and he’s giggling into Luke’s mouth. Eyes crinkled in his overjoyed smile, he sprinkles kisses across Luke’s cheeks, and Luke lies back on the cushions to pull Spencer along with him. Their kisses are honey, slow and sweet and warm. They savor each other, tasting their connection while they still have it, before grisly murders force them into separate zip codes. They know it won’t be enough.

The next morning, Luke walks Spencer to office 326. They’re wearing each other’s watches and Spencer has the Subaru key in his pocket. At the door they whisper their love, squeezing hands, and then let go.

Luke hasn’t even reached his desk when the team is called into the conference room. Three men have been decapitated in the past two months in Anchorage, the most recent body found only hours ago. There are bruises on their ankles and wrists consistent with restraints and the coroner determined the removal of the head, done with a large serrated blade, was the cause of death. Even for a room of professional compartmentalizers, it’s a chilling thought.

The team grabs their go-bags and it’s wheels up to Alaska. On the jet, Luke sends a text to Spencer. He knows he’s teaching, will be for the next several hours, but the text will wait for him.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Flying to Alaska. Think warm thoughts for me! ** _

He knows when Spencer goes on lunch by his reply.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Stay safe! ** Did you pack any winter wear? _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I was lulled into a false sense of weather security by it being almost June. Looks like I’ll have to rely on another detective who knits. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’m putting gloves and a scarf in your desk tomorrow. _

Luke also knows when Spencer’s workday ends, before they’ve even landed.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Garcia says you’re almost to Anchorage. Catch the killer and come home. I’ll give Roxy extra pets for you tonight. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I think that dog is starting to like you more. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Starting to? _

The team is met on the tarmac by agents at the local field office. Crimes of this nature are extremely rare in these parts, so the police chief invited in the full force of the FBI to help assuage public panic. Headless corpses have a way of worrying people.

They split up to investigate dumpsites and interview the family of the latest victim. It’s evening already, but the sun is still bright in the sky, so though Luke is shivering in his windbreaker he has an excellent view of the alley where the first victim was found.

“You need a jacket, green horn?” smirks Agent Ullulaq.

Luke chuckles self-consciously, “Yeah, I… green horn?”

“Just something we call people from outside, especially from the lower 48.” She opens the back of her SUV and tosses Luke a thick parka. “And  _ especially _ people who don’t bring a jacket.”

They convene at the Anchorage FBI building, working until they can barely keep their eyes open, and then are loaned some vehicles to take them to their hotel. It’s almost midnight when Luke becomes one with a very comfortable mattress, which means it’s about 4:00 AM for Spencer. There’s no way he’s awake, but Luke sends off a text anyway.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ In for the night. I love you, Cariño! _

The alarm wakes him in the rudest way possible, which is the only way an alarm works, and he sees he slept through Spencer’s response.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I’m happy to know you’re safe and I love you, too! Did you end up finding a detective who knits? _

Luke does a quick time zone conversion. Spencer is in the middle of teaching his morning class. He won’t get the text yet, but hopefully they’ll catch each other on his lunch.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I found an FBI agent who judgmentally throws jackets from her car, but it worked out the same. _

A witness comes forward, claiming to have seen the third victim’s abduction, and Luke and Tara spend hours working him through a cognitive. They don’t get much in the way of detail, and it’s possible all the witness saw was a drunk man with similar features being helped into a car. They’ll bring it to the team anyway.

A quick glance at the watch on his wrist tells Luke they worked through Spencer’s lunch hour. He won’t be able to catch him, but there is a text waiting.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Your scarf and gloves are now in the second drawer of your desk, along with a small surprise for when you get back. _

The ensuing grin takes over his features and a response bursts rapidly from his fingers.

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ I love you so much! I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again! _

Luke spends his entire time in Alaska like this, finding texts from hours ago just to leave messages for Spencer to read hours in the future.

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ I miss you, too! I think your black sweatshirt officially belongs to me now. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ It looks good on you. I hope your classes are going well! _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ They went great! I never really appreciated how much I enjoy academia. _

_ Luke Alvez → Spencer Reid _ _   
_ _ Just getting to bed. Good night, Cariño. _

_ Spencer Reid → Luke Alvez _ _   
_ _ Good morning, Love! Have a good day! _

On their fourth day in Alaska, the puzzle pieces finally fit together and they locate their serial decapitator, and she’s been kind enough to store her victim’s heads in a freezer as evidence. Unfortunately, they arrive too late for her fourth victim. He was only twenty and the defeat is a painful gut punch to them all. If only they were just slightly faster…

They haven’t even finished packing their go-bags when they’re assigned another case. They brief on the jet as they soar over Canada. 

Garcia braces them all from her small screen with a grim tone, “I know every murder is awful and you develop a thick skin, but before I show you these images I just want to warn you,” her voice thickens, eyes moist, “someone is killing kids in Flagstaff, Arizona.”

It’s the worst kind of case. As they collaborate, their tone is muted and expressions guarded. They try to rest with the few hours they have left before hitting the ground again, but the images of those poor children won’t leave their minds.

Luke’s phone rings and his heart swells when he sees it’s Spencer calling. “Hey!” he answers a bit too loudly for the quiet cabin.

“Hi!” Spencer’s voice comes through cheery, sunshine breaking through dark clouds. “Garcia said I should be able to catch you before you land in Arizona.”

Luke walks back to the plane’s kitchenette, into the ever-present aroma of stale coffee, and pulls the curtain shut for the illusion of privacy. “Did she mention anything about the case?”

“I know the victimology,” Spencer says sympathetically, terminology intentionally vague. “You know I’m here for you, right? You can call any time, when I’m in class, in the middle of the night, I’ll answer.”

Luke lets out a long sigh, the show of support a soothing balm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” There’s silence between them, which Luke doesn’t have the energy to fill, so Spencer picks a new topic. “Roxy managed to get her ball over the fence and into the neighbor’s yard yesterday.”

“What?” bursts out on a laugh. “That fence is, like, eight feet high!”

“She surprised us both, but I was the one who had to go get it. For a property adjacent to our own, it’s almost a ten minute walk around the block. And when I knocked on their door? I reached for my badge. I just barely stopped myself from introducing myself as an FBI agent. I almost turned dog toy retrieval into a federal case.”

“We have  _ got _ to get out more!” Luke howls.

“I was socially inept well before this job. Anyway, our backyard neighbors are Layla and Yousef Kadiri and they’re very nice. They let me search for the ball, which somehow wedged itself in a hedge, and sent me home with homemade baklava, and if you’re very lucky, there may still be some left when you return.”

Luke chuckles, feeling weightless with joy over this silly conversation, “Sounds like you’re having your own adventures.”

“Well, it wasn’t Alaska…”

“I wish you were here, Cariño. Although, with this case, maybe it’s best you’re spared.”

“These forced sabbaticals won’t last forever. And when you get home, there’s that surprise waiting in your desk drawer.”

“Thank you. And thank you for calling. I needed to hear your voice.”

“I needed to hear yours, too. I love you, Luke.”

“I love you, too, Spencer.” Luke doesn’t hang up, instead waiting for the click on the other end to disconnect them. He keeps the phone pressed warm to his ear, a lingering sensation of their connection, then slides back the curtain to reclaim his seat.

The team is all awake, casually splayed on almost-comfortable cushions. They’re smiling, glancing silently at each other, until Tara clucks her tongue, “So, how long have you been calling him Cariño?”

Eyebrows high, Luke pauses mid-step to notice the team’s smiles are all humored smirks directed at him. “You, uh… all heard me, huh?”

Rossi leans forward conspiratorially but his voice is loud enough for everyone to hear, “That curtain’s not exactly a wall, Kid.”

“Got any other cute nicknames for each other?” Matt quips. “Pookie Bear? Schnookums?”

“Stud muffin?” Prentiss adds, mirth dancing in her eyes.

“All right,” Luke lifts his hands in surrender, barely concealing a laugh behind mock annoyance. “You’ve had your fun, children. It’s naptime now.”

“A nap sounds fabulous!” JJ pulls her thin blanket up to her shoulders, pressing her cheek back into the headrest, and getting the entire team to follow suit. She will always take the side of her boys’ favorite uncles.

Luke accompanies Tara to the medical examiner’s office and when that sheet is pulled back he has to block out just how much that little corpse reminds him of his niece, Sarah. The victim was about the same age, had the same brown hair, and was surely just as loved. Instead, he focuses on injuries, cataloging, analyzing, blinking back that singular rebellious tear. 

Contacting the rest of the team, they receive terrible news: another child has gone missing. They have to work with the assumption that their unsub has struck again, which means they’re not just trying to catch a killer, they’re rushing to save the young life in his clutches. There will be no rest until that happens.

They canvas, open a tip line, interview everyone who will open their door. Day turns to night, turns to day again. They’re fueled by only coffee and hope.

Garcia provides the miracle they need. A video posted to social media captures a partial license plate in the background. It narrows down their suspect pool considerably and the profile does the rest.

A no-knock warrant allows them to enter silently, moving swiftly through the home in search of that child. She is their priority. Once she’s secure they can move on with the arrest, but they can not let him get to her first. They need to believe she can still be saved.

The killer spots them first and takes off running down the hall. They know he’s leading them to his victim, but he’ll get there first and it might only take him seconds to end her life. Ignoring their own safety, they rush into the room after him with their weapons drawn. He’s going for a knife. It gives them the moment they need to get between him and his target. He fixates, unable to see anything beyond his compulsion, and slashes his knife through the air as he rushes forward. He doesn’t make it two steps before there’s a loud bang and he drops to the floor.

The little girl is crying and Luke spins around toward her. She’s duct-taped to a chair by the wrists and ankles and tears are pouring down her terrified face. Gun holstered, Luke lifts his hands non-threateningly and kneels before her, putting himself between her and the gruesome scene behind him. “It’s okay. I’m gonna get you out of here. My name is Luke. I’m gonna get you home.”

“I want my mommy!” she sobs, and Luke nods in understanding.

“I’ll take you to her, but first I’ve got to get you out of that chair. I’m gonna cut the tape. I know the knife might look scary, but I promise, I won’t hurt you.” Luke takes the blade out slowly, unfolding it to let her inspect. Her eyes widen on that sharp edge, but then she nods her permission, so much braver than Luke thinks he could have been. He places the knife carefully, talking to her to keep her calm, “Your mom told me you like cats. That you have two of them at home. What are their names, again?”

She sniffles, lip trembling, “Butterscotch and Cinnamon.”

“Those are such great names! I bet your cats will also be excited to see you.” The tape is wrapped over her bare arms and he can’t bring himself to tear it off her, to cause her anymore pain, so he cuts on both sides of her arm and leaves the strip of tape attached. A nurse can worry about that later.

“Sometimes they sleep in my bed with me,” her mind drifts along those happier thoughts of her pets, away from the horrors surrounding her.

Her ankles are protected by socks, so that tape can be sliced and ripped away, and then she’s free. He immediately slides his blade back into its hiding place and opens his arms, “All done, come on!”

She hurls herself at him, trusting him to take her to her mom, and when Luke squeezes back, it’s Sarah’s embrace he feels.

“Let’s get you home.” He carries her out to the waiting vehicles, holding her hand on the ride to the hospital, and sees her all the way to her mother’s protective hold.

Turning around, JJ is there, and she wraps him in a tight hug that lets all their relief wash over them. Today is the kind of victory they need to embrace with all their strength, to let it shine bright enough to hold back the darkness.

When he drops into bed, overtired past exhaustion, he knows it’s the middle of the night, but Spencer said he could call and he so wants to call. He presses the phone to his ear and listens to it ring.

“Luke,” Spencer answers in a groggy croak, his tone somewhere between excitement and curiosity.

“Hey, Spencer,” Luke sighs, finally letting the tension of the case ease out of him. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I said you could. Is everything okay?”

“We did it. We caught the guy and saved this little girl who clung to me, and I’m pretty sure I hugged her back even tighter. She just so reminded me of Sarah. I couldn’t fail her.”

“You didn’t, Luke. You saved her. She’s home because of you.”

Luke feels a smile lift his features, “Yeah, she’s safe. It’s a good day.”

“It’s a good day.”

“And I get to see you tomorrow.”

“That will be an even better day!”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“We’ll need to celebrate. You solved two cases, you’ll finally be home, we should go out somewhere. Oh! We’ve yet to try that Himalayan restaurant that opened up downtown.”

“That sounds great!”

“Then I’m taking you home, and we can cuddle up on the couch and…  _ Amazon Prime.” _

Luke remembers the first time they made plans to ‘Amazon Prime’ and it unleashes a tantalizing thrill, “Yes, definitely that!”

“We have an entire week to make up for.”

“Cariño,” Luke breathes, eyes closed as his mind plays a highlight reel of their love life. “If I take a red eye I can be there in five hours.”

Spencer laughs, “You need to sleep. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“You’re probably right. I don’t think I could get out of this bed if I tried.” Luke yawns, eyes squeezed shut, and it’s difficult to open them back up. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

Luke falls asleep clutching the spare pillow to his chest.

A rather insistent knock is what wakes him and Luke stumbles out of bed to answer, worried he overslept, or worse, the case they thought they wrapped up came unraveled and another child has been taken.

Rossi is there, looking only slightly more rested than Luke feels, “Sorry, Kid. We’ve got another case.”

Luke blinks, sleep still rough in the corner of his eye, “Already? Can they do that?”

“It seems this unsub didn’t receive the itinerary,” Rossi teases, and Luke might be embarrassed if he weren’t waging such a battle with tired.

“Right.”

“You might want to start up that motel coffee maker. We’re wheels up to Birmingham in an hour.”

“Thanks,” Luke mumbles, checking the time. It’s 5:30AM, a stupidly small number of hours since they all fell asleep, but in Quantico, Spencer will just be arriving at his office and Luke can catch him on the phone.

Spencer answers on the first ring, “You’re up early.”

“Gonna need a raincheck on our date.”

“You have another case?” Spencer asks incredulously.

“Yeah, but this one will be closer to home. It’s in Alabama.”

“Huh. Are serial killers working their way through the states alphabetically?”

“What?” Luke’s pretty sure if he blinks hard enough, he’ll fall asleep standing up, so he tears open the free coffee grounds and dumps some water in the percolator.

“In all my years with the BAU, I’ve never worked three cases in a row. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m gonna take a two minute shower, chug a pot of coffee, and conk out as soon as I get on the jet.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Spencer chuckles.

“I’m sorry our date got pushed back.”

“Luke, you know I understand. The restaurant will still be there. Amazon Prime will wait.”

“You should have let me take that red eye.”

“I now see the error of my ways.”

Luke inhales slowly and deeply. These moments of connection, however brief, fill him, lift him. “I hope you have a good day. Go mold some minds, Professor.”

“Go save some lives. I love you.”

“Love you, Cariño.” He wonders when he’ll next be able to hear Spencer’s voice.

Luke has never woken up to the jet’s landing gear smacking into the tarmac before. It’s disorienting, startling, and he makes a pretty unbecoming squeak when his eyes pop open.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Tara grins from her seat across from him.

Rubbing his eyes, Luke grumbles, “How do you look so well-rested?”

“The two miracle C’s: caffeine and concealer.”

Local LEOs pick the team up in the taxi loop and they’re driven straight to police headquarters in downtown Birmingham. Chief Smith greets them with a blend of southern hospitality and crime-fighting urgency, “Thank you, agents of the BAU, for coming on down here on such short notice.”

They’re briefed, updated on information gathered since they took flight, and shown to their corner of the precinct with a ready evidence board.

Detective Novak is the lead on the case and he’s watching JJ hang a map with his arms crossed over his chest. Luke walks over to him, holding a file, eyes still glued to the details he wants to discuss.

“Detective, it says here the neighbor of our second victim was out of town at the time of the murder. Was your team able to verify that?”

“No, Sir, we just took him at his word on account of us locals don’t know how to do our jobs.”

The snark is a surprise and Luke looks up wide-eyed, “Hey, I’m just familiarizing myself with the case. I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes here.”

Novak grabs a folder of supplemental files off his desk and drops it carelessly atop the paperwork in Luke’s hands. “Then step back.” With that, he storms off.

“Whoa,” Matt exclaims from just behind Luke, “what’s up with that guy?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna find out.”

Peace is maintained by giving Novak a wide berth, a tactic most of the precinct has adapted. It seems he is friendly with precisely three colleagues: the captain, his partner, and the docile secretary who fetches him files and coffee. Everyone else filters interactions through them. Frankly, it’s ridiculous, but it’s none of Luke’s business. They’re just here to catch the killer.

A new body is found matching their unsub’s MO. They knew he was devolving but this is a chillingly short cooling off period. Novak and his partner Rodriguez are dispatched to the scene.

“Luke, Matt,” Prentiss calls out, “why don’t you go with them? Let us know what you find.” She isn’t doing this to be mean. She hasn’t been studying the department like Luke has, doesn’t know what a punishment working alongside Novak is. Besides that, they also still need to do their job, and dealing with a moody colleague is far from its least savory aspect.

They drive over separately, Novak not waiting long enough to offer a ride, and by the time they arrive the detective is shooing off the patrolmen for being in his way. These officers have crucial information on the initial state of the dump site, however, so Luke and Matt catch them at the police tape line for a quick interview. Since they found the body in a populated area, it’s possible their dash or body cameras caught their unsub or his vehicle leaving the scene, and they agree to upload the footage for Garcia to cast her tech witchcraft over.

“Why’d he change it up?” Novak grumbles over the dead woman’s body. “Her arms aren’t posed like the rest.”

“Your officers did that in their attempt to resuscitate,” Matt explains.

“They should have known better than to move the body! Idiots!” Novak rakes his fingers through what little hair he has left. Beside him, Rodriguez remains silent, jotting in his miniature notebook.

The guy may be a jerk, but Luke tries to reassure him, anyway, “We’re having our technical analyst go over their body cam footage and she can send over high resolution images of the body before it was tampered with.”

“We have our own people for that,” Novak snipes. “We don’t need Feds snooping in our business.”

“We’re on the same side here. Same business,” Luke holds up his hands, surrendering to a battle he never agreed to fight. “We want to catch this guy, same as you.”

“I’ve been catching these guys all over this city for fifteen years and I’ve never needed the likes of you butting in and getting in the way. Cap may want you here, but I sure as hell don’t.”

“Doesn’t matter if you want us. The fact is, we’re here and we’re gonna do our job because we’re good at it. Now you have a choice to make: you can either serve the people of this town, or you can serve your own ego. Because you can’t do both.”

It’s pretty clear Novak has never been stood up to like this because his comeback is a saliva-soaked sputtering before he marches his rage-reddening face back to his vehicle.

Rodriguez watches his partner drive off with an air of detachment.

Matt pats him on the shoulder and cracks a half smile, “Need a ride?”

Out of Novak’s overbearing shadow, Rodriguez proves an invaluable asset, providing knowledge of the local club scene that helps them catch their first break. Everything starts to fall in line: Garcia finds the tiniest hidden detail in the footage that leads her through exceptionally helpful DMV records that provide the address of a man who matches their refined profile. Novak manages to rejoin the force just in time to take credit for the arrest, but again, that’s none of Luke’s business. He’s just happy to be going home.

“We are going home, right?” Rossi checks as they board the jet, skepticism evident in his tone.

“Yes!” Prentiss vows, dropping her exhausted frame into a seat. “I’ve removed us from the roster. Once we land, you all can just go home. We’ll worry about paperwork tomorrow.”

Stretching out along the couch, JJ quips, “I’ll believe that when we land,” and it’s a fair point.

As soon as they touch down in Quantico, they become those people who clap when a plane lands. They scurry out, like it might suddenly launch them off to another case, then caravan back to the BAU for their cars.

Luke rushes up the stairs three at a time, not wasting time waiting for the elevator. It’s almost the end of Spencer’s lunch hour, and if Luke hurries he can catch him before his next class. He throws open the door to office 365 and his eyes immediately land on Spencer’s joyous face.

“Oh yay, I’m so happy you’re all finally home!” cheers a voice that very much is not Spencer’s, and that’s how Luke finds out they aren’t alone. Garcia is here with her dainty, crustless tea sandwiches for what is now a regular meeting of the Left Behind Club. Realizing she’s suddenly become a third wheel, she hops up and gathers what’s left of her meal into her union jack lunchbox, “Oh, you two probably want to be alone now, because of that whole time away thing, so I should just get out of your hair.” As she passes Luke he stops her with a hand on her arm and sincerity in his eyes.

“Hey, I know we said thank you, but if you hadn’t combed through that footage with your fancy algorithms and found those records, we wouldn’t be home right now. And I’m  _ so happy _ to be  _ home. _ So, Goddess of All Things Cyber, from the bottom of my sleep-deprived heart, thank you. Really.”

Garcia glows at the praise, positively preening. “Aww… anything for you guys!” There’s an extra pep in her chunky-heeled step as she pulls the door closed behind her.

Turning back around, Luke comes face to face with Spencer, who’s bouncing on his toes in anticipation. 

“You’re home!” bursts out of him and he throws his arms around Luke’s neck. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“It’s good to be back, Cariño,” Luke slots their mouths together and tingles run up and down his spine. It’s amazing how every kiss with Spencer feels just as fantastic as their first, just as exciting and affirming and purely loving.

Spencer sighs warm breath between their lips, “I missed you.” Then, his bounce is back and he wiggles a bit when he asks, “Did you find your surprise?”

Luke shakes his head, “I came straight here, wanted to see you first.”

This earns him a sweet smile, Spencer’s hand gliding fondly along his jaw, before catching a glimpse of the clock and his expression drops, “I have to go to class soon.”

“I know, but this minute together was perfect. And I’ll be there when you get home tonight.” He leans in closer to murmur hotly into Spencer’s ear, “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Spencer’s grip tightens and a low moan escapes his lips. “We really do. Oh!” He digs into his pocket and presents the Subaru key. “Take this. I’ll ride the train. And,” his fingers go to his wrist, removing Luke’s watch so they can trade back, “thank you for coming home to me, Love.”

Watch dangling from his fingertips, Luke presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “Thank you. Have a good class. I’ll see you tonight and I love you.” Luke steps back to let Spencer get on with his day, but Spencer has other plans.

He tugs Luke forward for one more passionate kiss, breathing Luke in with sounds of delight, “I love you, too!” It’s difficult for Luke to let him go after that, but duty calls.

Sliding his desk drawer open, Luke first assumes he’s been gifted a framed note, but when he picks it up the sheet of paper slips around over the glass. The note is atop the frame. It reads: “Garcia came over for a photo shoot and I thought this would look great on your desk.” It’s written in Spencer’s comically terrible penmanship but Luke now has enough practice to decipher it.

The note slides away and staring up from the frame is Roxy. She has a ball in her mouth, her tail is a wagging blur, and she’s just so happy. Luke loves it. He places the picture with care next to his monitor, admiring it a moment longer, before deciding to return to the genuine furry article waiting for him at home.

Turning onto his street, his house is a welcome sight. He parks in the garage, throws open the door, and drops to the laundry room floor for Roxy’s wiggliest, most ecstatic greeting all over him.

“I missed you, too, Roxy! You’re such a good dog! Oh yes, the best dog!”

The hyper kisses tickle across Luke’s cheeks.

“I know, I was gone for way too long! And right now, I want nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep until Spencer gets home. How does that sound? Will you come take a nap with me?”

Roxy wags some more in response. She has no idea what he’s saying, but his tone is happy so she’s down to follow.

Luke only bothers to toe off his shoes before diving face-first into his pillow. It smells like Spencer’s shampoo and that offers far more comfort than their bedding ever could. He shoves his face into the softness and inhales deeply. Roxy curls up against his hip, and after the week he’s had, falling asleep like this will be absolute heaven.

This is when Luke’s stomach chooses to growl, twinging painfully with hunger. It would prefer being fed to this whole resting business. Luke tries to ignore it, hoping to fall asleep before it can voice this opinion again, but with another grumble, he realizes he’ll have no such luck.

“New plan,” he peels himself out of bed, earning a confused head tilt from the dog. “Let’s go find the fastest food I can make.” He opens a few cupboards before his eyes land on a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. Giving the milk a sniff first, lunch is poured. He stands in the kitchen for the first few spoonfuls before his legs start to wander.

Everything about the den sings of Spencer. The walls are covered by bookshelves filled with Spencer’s literary collection. His glasses sit atop a stack of papers upon the desk from Spencer’s old apartment. Even though the rest of the furniture in there was originally Luke’s, he feels no connection to it. The couch set was chosen because it was on clearance and was small enough to fit on that day’s delivery truck. Spencer’s furniture feels like Spencer, refined masculinity and comfortable strength, while Luke’s furniture just feels like… Ikea.

On the kitchen island sits a large paper plate with two sticky, flaky squares of baklava. Beside that is a note from Spencer reading: “I had the other six pieces so the last two are for you. Please eat them quickly before I change my mind. I love and miss you.”

Spencer’s coffee mug is sat next to the sink from his breakfast, and there are a few blueberry muffins he baked under cellophane by the toaster.

In the living room, a blanket is draped over a leather chair from when Spencer was reading that book on the coffee table. Luke can see it in his mind, Spencer snuggled in for warmth as his fingers speedily flip through pages.

Evidence of Spencer is sprinkled around their home like little gifts for Luke’s lonesome heart, filling him with the connection he craves, and it makes him wonder what of himself is there for Spencer. The gym is where Luke has had the most influence, but Spencer rarely goes in there, and what comfort can free weights offer?

“What do you think, Rox? What should we add? What do I like?”

The dog grunts in response.

“Yes, of course I like you. I meant, what kind of decor do I like? Or, did you want us to hang a picture of you? A big ol’ life-sized portrait? That’d be memorable. Do I like portraits? We should probably hang more pictures of us. We should probably  _ have _ more pictures of us.”

Roxy trots off toward the dining room.

“You think of something?” Luke calls after her.

She returns with a tennis ball and an enticing wag, beckoning him toward the backyard.

Luke acquiesces with an overly-dramatic sigh, “Oh, you’re no help. All right, a quick game of catch and then back to bed with the both of us.” Tipping the bowl to his lips, he downs the sweetened milk in a single gulp, and follows his pup out to play.

Standing on the patio, Luke tosses the ball out over the grass for Roxy to leap and race after. It’s clear Spencer recently mowed, the lawn short and neat up to the mow strip. Their yard is tidy, clean… and a total blank canvas. 

“Roxy, you’re a genius!”

Roxy woofs; she’s well aware of this.

“I need to do something out here. Something nice that Spencer will like…” He spins, taking in the full 360 degree view as he thinks. “A table and chairs would be nice. Eh, that’s something we should pick out together… A barbecue? Nah, my cooking is dangerous enough without open flames… A hammock! It’s perfect! It’s furniture that hugs you! We need a hammock!”

This time, Roxy’s bark is much more insistent. Luke has been holding the ball for over a minute now without throwing it and that’s just negligence.

“Okay, one more toss and then I’m going to the hardware store.” He sends the ball soaring. “I’ll be back!”

The Toolbelt is an employee-owned hardware store on the small strip of road Stafford refers to as its downtown. It’s where they bought their lawnmower, hedge clippers, and putty and paint that time Luke accidentally scuffed a dent into the wall they hope Morgan will never notice.

“Hey, Luke!” Grace’s cheerful voice greets from the display she’s building. “What brings you in today?”

“I’m hoping to buy a hammock to spruce up the backyard.”

“That sounds wonderful! You two work too hard; you deserve a little relaxation. I’ll have Charley meet you in aisle twelve.”

Charley easily talks Luke into the woven rope hammock with the wooden frame, and manages to up-sell two outdoor pillows and a blanket to complete the experience. 

The box is heavy, but Luke refuses to be defeated and hefts it through the house and into the backyard. It falls to the cement with an impressive thud. The instructions are blessedly simple, and with the tools provided, a hammock begins to take shape under his hands. With the frame built, he gives it a good jiggle to make sure it's sturdy, then attaches the woven rope. They have a hammock.

Luke needs to test it. If this thing is going to fall apart, it won’t be when Spencer is on it. With a backwards squat, he slowly lowers himself in, feeling the hammock pull taught and hold strong. He lifts his feet, spins, and he’s comfortably in their newest addition. “This is nice.”

He should have seen it coming. Roxy is a curious dog who appreciates comfort above most things. With Luke up there, the temptation is simply too great for her to weigh any consequences. She jumps. She lands.

“Whoa!” The hammock sways perilously as she flops between Luke’s feet, and Luke reaches out to hold her still. “Easy there. Lay down.”

Roxy crouches, legs twitching as she attempts to find purchase.

“Stay. You got us in a bit of a pickle here, and if you go down we are both going down. Let’s just chill.”

Roxy has other plans. She wants off and no command will stop her. Paws scrambling, she clumsily springs out, sending the hammock violently swinging. Luke spreads his limbs and grips fast, a spider clinging to its web. The swaying eases. He doesn’t tip. His heart rate slows back to normal. 

“Huh. This is a good hammock.”

Spencer’s smile is so wide his cheeks are starting to ache but he can’t stop because Luke is finally home and he’s been waiting for this since the moment he left for Alaska. His hands tap excitedly against his thighs as he steps into the house. Roxy is there to greet him, wagging and guiding him to the back door.

“Is he out there?” It’s not wholly unexpected to find Luke out in the yard, since that’s Roxy’s playground, but Spencer was confident Luke would be deep in a REM cycle upstairs about now. Roxy would know, though, so he follows out the back door.

The hammock is impossible to miss, swaying gently in the shade of the house, and Luke is lying in the center with a blissful smile.

“What is this?” Spencer asks, more surprised than confused.

“It’s a hammock.”

“We have a hammock?”

“We have a hammock.”

“I love it!” Spencer stands next to it, watching it move to and fro.

Luke pats the rope beside him, “Come on in.”

“I don’t know how!”

“You just,” Luke shrugs against the pillow, “fall in.”

“Oh, no,” Spencer laughs, shaking his head definitively, “that will end in disaster.”

“I had Roxy up here and she didn’t knock it over. This hammock has been tested, Spencer, I promise I won’t let you fall.”

Spencer frowns, unsure, but then he meets Luke’s eyes and is filled with trust. It might be their undoing, but he’s taking the chance. He tips sideways, feels the rope catch him, and then strong arms pull him alongside Luke. It’s even comfier than it looks and Spencer cuddles into Luke’s chest. “Okay, I don’t know how I’m getting out, but this is nice.”

Luke traces his fingers down Spencer’s spine and assures, “It just takes practice. I’ll have Roxy demonstrate.”

Spencer’s laughter rumbles against Luke as they hold each other close, and their lips find each other. “Let’s never leave this hammock.”

“Hmm,” Luke hums, smiling at the idea. “What about Himalayan food?”

Spencer’s grip tightens, “Later.”

“Okay,” Luke kisses him again. “We’ll go later.” The hammock hugs them together in comfort, and Luke’s whole world narrows to the man in his arms. It’s good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I post overnight, no one will notice how late this update is!
> 
> This chapter had to be dragged from my brain kicking and screaming. I'm happy with it now, though, so here it is!


	46. Under The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's anyone's guess when I update at this point. I used to have a rhythm. I miss you, rhythm.

It’s the Friday before Luke’s birthday weekend and he and Spencer have planned the perfect camping trip. It’s going to be two days in the woods, just them and Roxy amongst the fresh air and sweet pines eating a disgusting amount of s’mores. 

It’s a bit of a fantasy of Luke’s, to lie with his love under the stars, to hold his hand by the crackling fire, to share a sleeping bag miles away from civilization. He assumed Spencer would be a tough sell, with his lingering discomfort around germs and his strong desire to avoid exercise, but he’s actually more excited than Luke is. He’s never been camping, has really only experienced the great outdoors on cases, and the idea of that much uninterrupted alone time has him practically giddy.

They dragged Luke’s camping gear out of storage, bought a double sleeping bag and some new hiking boots for Spencer, and got the weekend cleared up the chain of command. Spencer went home after lunch to pack the Subaru, since it’s easier to reschedule a class than to bow out early on the BAU, and Luke is counting down the hours.

Then Counter-Terrorism gets a sudden assignment and the BAU is placed on standby. No trekking out past the reach of cell towers, no wilderness, no birthday trip. Luke feels that balloon of anticipation deflating inside him. The worst part is going to be breaking the disappointment to Spencer.

“Hey, Luke,” Spencer answers on the first ring.

“I’ve got bad news,” Luke goes for the Ripping Off The Bandaid approach.

“A case?”

“Close. We’re on standby.”

“Oh. So, we have to postpone.”

Luke sighs, “I’m sorry, Spencer. I know you were looking forward to this.”

“We both were. And we’ll still be able to do it, just another time. Meanwhile, tomorrow is still your birthday, and no matter what, we are still celebrating.”

“Even if we get a case?” Luke asks, more to gripe than actually check.

“Even if I have to sing you Happy Birthday over the speaker phone of a police conference room.”

That image cheers Luke right up, a goofy giggle bubbling out of him, “Now that might just be worth it.”

“You haven’t heard me sing.”

This gets Luke to laugh again, his smile sticking around, “Thank you, I already feel better. I’ll let you know if they send us off someplace. Otherwise, I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you!”

Luke still counts down the hours, but with a menacing glare toward the clock, warning it not to even think about delaying his time with Spencer by allowing another case. Of course the clock would bear no responsibility for the actions of a serial killer, but this is not the time for logic.

Evening comes and Luke is the first one out of there, sending the team a quick wave before thundering down the stairs. He drives Spencer’s ancient relic of a vehicle home, happily tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Sure, the camping trip he was excited for was canceled, but he’ll still be with Spencer, and that’s the best birthday gift he could ask for.

As Luke climbs out into the garage, the side door opens and spills in sunlight. Spencer steps through, Roxy at his side, and he’s wearing a backpack. He lifts a second backpack toward Luke.

“Welcome home, you’re just in time!”

Anticipation tingles. “In time for what?” He takes the backpack, throwing a strap over one shoulder.

“We’re almost there.” Spencer turns around, leading them into the side yard. “It’s just a short hike.” Sure enough, Spencer is wearing his new hiking boots, those rubber soles gripping the rough terrain of their cement walkway.

Roxy races ahead and they quicken their pace to catch up. Rounding the sunroom, Luke freezes, the sight before him stealing his breath.

Their backyard has been transformed into a campsite. Their tent is pitched, a window flap open to reveal their double sleeping bag and Roxy’s dog bed inside. Their cooler sits in the tent’s shadow, the picnic blanket from their first date folded on top. Camping chairs face a raised fire pit Luke’s never seen before, clearly purchased for this occasion. Dazed and elated, the only word that can slip past Luke’s lips is, “Spencer?”

“We’re camping!” Spencer explains with an excited smile.

“You did this.” Obviously Spencer did this, but Luke is so touched by the gesture that it needs to be acknowledged.

“I got us the best campsite. It comes with that hammock right there, which is top quality and very well made, and we’re right by the lodge,” Spencer points to their house. “It has all the luxuries: a fully-stocked kitchen, shower, air conditioning-”

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Luke breathes out, struggling to pick his jaw up off the ground.

“Well, the tent came with instructions and everything else was self-explanatory.”

Luke turns to Spencer, sliding both hands along his jaw to hold his face, looking at him with love. “You’re amazing.”

Spencer’s cheeks brighten at the praise, “Happy birthday, Luke.” They’re close enough to kiss so they do, smiles curving their lips as they press together.

Luke looks back to the tent, blinking back happy moisture. “We’re camping.”

“I know it isn’t the wilderness-”

“It’s perfect.” Hand slipping into Spencer’s, Luke moves closer for a better look.

“The cooler has that beer you like, as well as hot dogs and the ingredients for s'mores.”

Luke pulls open the lid and plucks a bottle from the ice, fishing his keyring out of his pocket to pop the cap.

“Sorry, did you want to change? I just sort of grabbed you.”

“Nope,” Luke lifts one of the chairs over the fire pit, planting it back in the grass facing the tent and taking his seat. “I’m ready to camp with my boyfriend.”

Dragging his chair right up next to Luke’s, Spencer sits leaning into his shoulder, hand resting on Luke’s thigh. “I read a Boy Scouts manual on building fires. I’ve arranged the kindling in a lean-to formation. All that’s left is to light the tinder. Would you like to do the honors?” Spencer holds out a matchbox. 

“You gave me the fun part!” Luke crouches in front of the fire pit, striking a flame and easing it into the fuel. The light catches some dry brush, heating a twig. It flickers, a faint flow, and then roars to life. He hops back from the blaze, holding his hands toward it as he admires. It isn’t cold out, the late Spring sun still warm along the horizon, but this beautiful fire signifies the beginning of their camping weekend together and it deserves to be savored.

Sitting back next to Spencer, Luke links their hands as the flames dazzle in the dimming light.

“This takes me back to my first camping trip,” Luke smiles, taking a sip of his beer. “My parents took me upstate, I was no more than eight, my dad was on leave, and it was my first time outside the city. I was so excited. We went on this big hike and I couldn’t get over how amazing the air smelled. My dad showed me how to pitch a tent, my mom showed me how to roast the perfect marshmallow. It was great.”

Spencer slides his thumb across Luke’s knuckles, “That sounds like a nice memory.”

“It is.” His eyes go distant and he huffs out a laugh, “That night, we heard something moving around our campsite. My parents figured it was a racoon, no big deal, but then it got closer and we realized it was a bear. I was  _ terrified! _ I thought for sure we were gonna get eaten. My dad grabbed his rifle, but my mom, she just yelled at it. ‘You get out of here right now! Don’t you make me come out there! Beat it!’ Spencer, that bear ran out of there so fast.”

Jaw slack in awe, Spencer laughs, “She scared off a bear?”

“That is how my mom became the scariest creature in that forest.”

“That’s astounding! What did you do after that? Did you stay?”

Luke’s brow furrows in thought, “We stayed. I think my dad went out and peed along the perimeter. Or he relit the fire. I don’t really remember.”

“And from this experience, you’ve liked camping.”

“Love it. Every summer my dad came home, he’d take us for a weekend in the woods. And when he’d pack his gun he’d remind my mom to pack her bellow.”

“Your family is great!”

“What about your family? What did you do when you were a kid?”

“My mom, uh,” Spencer’s nose twitches, “had difficulty with travel, but she read to me all the time, all the greats from the past seven hundred years: Proust, Austen, Tolstoy, Chaucer…”

“Yeah, it was pretty great when she read to us,” Luke smiles at the memory.

“And on her better days, we’d listen to records and dance. She had the longest Bob Dylan phase… And we’d watch Jeopardy to see if I could get the answers before the contestants.”

“How have I not thought to do that?” Luke laughs.

“My dad, he talked about taking me fishing someday, but he worked long hours and then he left when I was ten. But I was in college two years later, so there probably wasn’t really time.”

“I can teach you to fish.”

Spencer shakes off the invading negative thoughts, “Hmm?”

“Yeah, I’m not great, but I can show you the basics. We probably won’t catch anything.”

“Then it’s a win for everyone involved!”

“Yes! It’s a date. You, me, a lake, time to be determined.”

“And Roxy,” Spencer adds just in time for the dog to drop her hall in his lap. He rises to play fetch with her while Luke builds a nice bed of coals for them to cook their dinner over. Pulling off the top, they set a can of vegetable soup directly in the hot ash. Hot dogs are impaled on long skewers to roast and, at Luke’s New Yorker insistence, they dress their buns with only mustard.

Everything tastes better when you’re camping, even if it’s in your backyard. Night falls as they eat, the stars just blinking into view.

“So,” Spencer cleans off his skewer, “you mentioned learning how to perfectly roast a marshmallow.”

“Indeed I did,” Luke hops up to grab the dessert ingredients from a bag in the cooler. He stabs a marshmallow and holds it over the orange glow, slowly rotating it like a confection rotisserie. “It’s all about evenly toasting it all around until it’s golden. The key is patience. See, most people want to eat it too quickly. They shove it too close to the heat and burn it. Or they don’t turn it and only cook one side.”

Spencer takes this all in with great focus, studying this culinary art.

“If you break a graham cracker in half and lay a couple pieces of chocolate over one, you can have the first s’more.”

Spencer handles the prep work, but shakes his head, “This is your birthday celebration. The first s’more should be yours.”

“This whole experience is my gift. This one s’more is yours.” Luke pulls the perfectly golden sweet from the fire pit and slides it atop Spencer’s chocolate. “Enjoy.”

Spencer understands the concept of a s’more, but he’s never eaten one before and it seems… well, it seems messy. The marshmallow is sticky, the melting chocolate is oozy, and the crisp graham cracker is crumbly. He stares at the treat, puzzling out how to take a bite without the whole thing falling apart in his lap.

Luke laughs from his seat beside him, “Your best best is to shove it all in your mouth at once.”

Spencer eyes him skeptically, but Luke is being serious. With a steadying breath, he takes the advice and shoves. A few bites break it up enough that only a dot of chocolate remains on his lips, and suddenly he can taste. “Mmm!” It’s delicious, sweet and rich and warm, with caramel notes in the marshmallow balancing the bitterness in the chocolate and the crunch from the graham cracker providing texture. He stops chewing, just holding the flavors against his tongue, eyes wide.

“Good, right?”

Spencer manages a nod in his state of dessert bliss. He swallows with a sated sigh, earning a chuckle.

“Want another?”

“We found your cooking niche! Outside over fire!”

“Well, I-” Luke is about to argue, but he realizes he’s taken the lead on this meal and it’s all been great. “Huh, I guess you’re right.”

“We need a barbecue for you.”

“Now, that seems like a risk.”

Spencer waves off the worry, “We’ll keep it away from the house. You’re so good at this.”

“Well, thank you,” Luke’s chest swells with pride.

Spencer goes to great effort to copy Luke’s marshmallow technique. Attempt One isn’t quite golden enough, and then suddenly blackens. Tipping the skewer, he disposes of that marshmallow into the coals and starts again. He’s only accepting perfection; Luke has set a high standard. The third roast is the charm, and when Luke praises him he blushes.

“Happy birthday, Luke!” Spencer points the skewer at him to offer the marshmallow on the tip.

It’s a delightful surprise and the warm flavor melts over his tongue. “Mmm! Spencer, that’s better than mine! You might be as good at this as my mom.”

Sighing, Spencer leans into Luke’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek, “I know this isn’t the wilderness, but I hope you’re having a good time.”

Luke drops his skewer to the grass so he can get both arms around his boyfriend, “Not only is this, hands down, the best camping trip I’ve ever been on, this is my favorite birthday. Look at all you did for me! You’re the best boyfriend, Cariño.”

“I love you,” Spencer moves his face until their lips connect. They kiss pressed against their armrests. They’re twisted at the waists and heated on one side by the lingering glow in the fire pit. Spencer grunts when his knee bumps the chair leg. “We have a blanket.”

Luke pulls back, concerned, “Are you cold?”

“We have a blanket to lay down on the grass.”

Luke nods in understanding, “Horizontal is good.”

They hop from their seats and throw the blanket over the lawn. Crawling into each other's arms, they reconnect hips to lips under the sparkling sky. This best birthday keeps improving. Moist lips slip against each other, fingers tangling in hair and clutching at lust-heated flesh. Acutely aware they are outside and have neighbors, they stifle their moans into each other’s mouths.

“Gorgeous,” Luke nips Spencer’s bottom lip. “I’m so lucky.”

“You make me so happy,” Spencer squeezes Luke’s bicep and a thrill trembles down both their spines.

“God, I love you!”

“Love you, too!” Spencer’s breaths are coming in pants. “Love you! Love you so much!”

Successfully pulling Spencer’s shirt free from his waistband, Luke’s fingers sneak under the cotton to tease the smooth skin there. His hand suddenly stills when he gets an idea, “Hey, Spencer?”

“Hmm?” Spencer blinks, drifting back down from Cloud 9 to follow Luke’s gaze to the hammock. Luke looks back at him, eyebrows waggling suggestively, and Spencer shakes his head. “Oh, no. I’ve yet to master lying still on that thing. We are  _ not _ at that skill level.”

“Something to work up to, then,” Luke dives back in for a passionate kiss. The air chills around them but they stay warm in sensual embrace. Until a tennis ball drops on Luke’s back. He jolts, his mouth making a wet pop as it detaches from Spencer’s neck.

Spencer groans in disappointment, grip tightening around his boyfriend’s waist.

“Roxy wants us to throw the ball,” Luke explains with a note of apology for the pooch.

Spencer drops his arms away and as Luke slides off, the ball falls onto the blanket. From his prone position, Spencer grabs it and tosses it carelessly to behind him. “I suppose we were approaching in-the-tent activities.”

Luke snorts at the terminology, tossing the ball again for their speedy retriever. “You ready for that sleeping bag, Cariño?”

“Not quite yet. Come lie next to me?”

Luke plops onto his back, their shoulders touching and his outer hand still primed for tossing.

“When I was a kid I had a telescope. I spent hours looking up at the night sky, mapping and studying. That large cluster over there,” Spencer traces the shape with his index finger, “is Ursa Minor, the Little Bear. From this latitude, it’s visible every night, never setting below the horizon. It’s probably most recognizable for the smaller constellation it contains, the Little Dipper. Ursa Minor was also known to the Ancient Greeks as the Phonecian because the people of Phonecia used it to navigate. If you follow the Little Dipper’s handle out all the way to the end, that’s Polaris, the North Star.”

Luke tilts his face to brush a kiss against Spencer’s temple, “You sure know how to show an outdoorsman a good time.”

Lacing their fingers together, Spencer searches the sky. “That bright star there is Arcturus, which is part of the Boӧtes constellation, meaning Herdsman. Also contained within is the Boӧtes Void, a 250 million lightyear span of empty space.”

Luke squints up like he might be able to spot this massive void, but the light pollution of even their modest town means most of the sky looks like black stretches between stars.

Spencer’s arm swoops across the celestial equator toward another clump of twinkling lights just above the southern horizon. “Do you see how those stars there create a teapot? That’s part of Sagittarius, the Archer, and in that direction lies the galactic center of the Milky Way. And, just to the right, you can’t actually see them with the naked eye, but that’s where our stars are.”

Following Spencer’s gaze, Luke gives their joined hands a squeeze, “Twinkle twinkle.”

Spencer rolls onto his side to cuddle into his boyfriend, draping an arm possessively over Luke’s stomach and whispering, “Twinkle twinkle, Love.”

The darkness is a comforting blanket, no moon to fade the starlight, and it hides their quiet intimacy. The temperature drops slowly, pressing them closer for warmth until Luke finally feels Spencer shiver.

“I think it’s time for bed.”

Spencer checks his watch and his eyes widen. “It’s midnight.” His face lifts with joy for Luke, “Happy birthday! I got you a present. It’s in the tent.” He folds up the blanket as Luke goes to unzip their small shelter. Luke’s startled cry has Spencer rushing over, “What’s wrong?”

Luke just points and Spencer sees a spider crawling up the zipper of their doorway.

“Pholcus phalangiodes, commonly known as the Daddy Long-Legs spider.” Spencer grabs a paper plate and gently scoops the creature on to give it a quick ride to the far side of the lawn. “It’s believed by many that their fangs are too short to pierce human flesh, but that is a misnomer. They are simply so docile it takes an extreme amount of agitation for them to bite.”

Luke keeps a safe distance as Spencer deposits the spiders at the fenceline. “Won’t it just come back?” Sure, it’s small, but who knows how far those eight long legs can carry it?

“I’ll keep this handy,” Spencer waves the now empty paper plate and guides them back to the tent.

“For the record,” Luke clears his throat, watching where his feet land in the grass, “I wasn’t scared of the spider. It just surprised me.”

“Arachnophobia is actually a common fear, so there’s no shame-”

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“Whose birthday is it?”

“It’s your birthday, Luke.”

“So when I say I’m not afraid of spiders?”

Biting his lip to stifle a laugh, Spencer plays along, “Of course you aren’t afraid of spiders. Even though many people are and it would be completely understandable if you were. But you aren’t.”

Luke quirks an eyebrow, unimpressed with the effort.

“I think it’s time to get you your present!” Spencer doesn’t comment when Luke waits for him to handle the contaminated zipper, and with a whistle for Roxy to join them, he makes sure to tightly shut nature out.

The gift is hidden beneath Spencer’s pillow, wrapped neatly in gold paper. They sit across from each other on the sleeping bag, legs crossed and knees touching, and Spencer hands over the small box.

Luke pulls the tape slowly, attempting to unwrap with the same care Spencer used to wrap, but then the paper rips, the point is moot, and he tears the rest off. The box advertises what’s inside. “A compass watch?”

Spencer nods, “When you hike even further than we did today, you can always find your way home. And it’s waterproof.”

“Just in case I fall in a river?” Luke smirks.

“Yes.”

“I love it. Thank you.” Luke leans forward for a gratitude kiss.

“Happy birthday.”

They change into their sleepwear in the tight space of the tent, Luke pulling on the gym shorts and tee Spencer packed him and Spencer covering up in thick flannel to weather the chill. After adoring Roxy with goodnight pets on her bed, they curl up close in the large sleeping bag.

“Thank you for this,” Luke smiles sincerely.

Spencer brushes a kiss against his lips and wraps him in his arms, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep the spiders away.”

“Spencer, it’s still my birthday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I've had an incredible amount of support in this story and it's just carrying me through to the finish line. There are two more installments after this, but completing Touch Therapy will be a huge deal to me. I'm a little scared, this story has been my touchstone since March, but I guess they have to grow up sometime.


	47. Stories In The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not ready to say goodbye! It took a month and a half for the final chapter to crawl out of my mind. It's been a problem. But it's finally here! I'm having extreme emotions about it. My baby's all grown up and going off to college. Thank you for coming with me along this journey, for allowing me to influence you with my Ralvez obsession, for your wonderfully supportive comments and patience as I've come to the end. It's been a beautiful experience sharing my happy place with you.

Luke has the team gathered around a box of bagels with a variety of flavored cream cheese spreads, smiling at them a little nervously. Spencer is still on his sabbatical, teaching downstairs instead of eating with them, but that is to Luke’s benefit. He’s going to need this to be kept secret from Spencer for his plan to work.

“Guys, I need a favor from you,” Luke announces. “I’m asking you to sacrifice your Saturday for it.”

Six pairs of eyebrows raise at him. The bright side to their triple case week and surprise standby status is the guarantee they’ll have next weekend free. It’s something they’ve all been looking forward to.

“I don’t know if bagels are gonna be enough for that, Kid,” Rossi quips, only half kidding.

Luke doesn’t let this discourage him, just puts it out there, “I’m going to ask Spencer to marry me, and I’d like for you all to be there.”

Garcia squeals so loudly Luke worries Spencer might hear all the way down in the auditorium.

JJ leaps to her feet with a bright, “Yes!” and throws her arms around Luke for a tight hug. 

She’s replaced by Rossi who grasps his cheeks and plants a paternal kiss on Luke’s forehead, “Tanti auguri per una vita felice insieme! I wish you a happy life together!”

Matt cups Luke’s shoulder, “We’d be honored to be there.”

Tara raises her half-eaten bagel in a toast, “Wouldn’t miss it!”

“So,” Prentiss leans forward conspiratorially, “do you have something planned?”

“Oh yeah,” Luke beams, “I definitely do.”

Luke picks Spencer up in office 326, taking full advantage of them sharing a zip code. “Ready to go?”

Sliding the final folder into his rolling briefcase, Spencer hops from his seat, “I am. How did the bagels go over?” This is the one piece of Luke’s plan Spencer in privy to, that Luke brought in a box of bagels to work. The giant box of baked goods would have been impossible to hide, so Luke just played the breakfast food bribe off as a kind gesture.

“Great. It inspired further team bonding. We all have next Saturday free and Matt was talking about taking his family out somewhere, and JJ was excited to get Will and the boys involved, and I mentioned how much fun the planetarium was, and one thing led to another and now the whole team wants to go together.”

Spencer stills halfway down the hall, eyes wide with excitement, “To the planetarium?”

“Yeah,” Luke shrugs a shoulder, “figure everyone can bring their families. I bet Henry and Michael would like having you there. You interested?”

“Yes, of course I’m interested! That sounds great!” Eager joy twitches in his muscles and he hops on his toes.

“I’ll let everyone know.” Externally, Luke is nonchalant, but inside he’s doing cartwheels. Obviously he knows a group outing to the planetarium would thrill Spencer, it’s all part of his plan, but it’s a secret plan so he’s drawing on those covert skills he honed in the Fugitive Task Force. He goes for another shrug, “Should be fun.”

Excitement still thrums through Spencer on the drive home, and he’s bursting with ideas, “I read in January they added an exhibit about life on the International Space Station that has plenty of interactive aspects. Oh! And the Lunar Explorer will be a hit with the kids. And the display on recognizing constellations would be interesting for everyone!”

Luke smiles at the windshield, feeling wonderfully proud of himself. “It’ll be a great day.”

Spencer goes silent, slipping into his mind for a moment. “We’ll be in DC. We should go to that french restaurant again for dinner. What do you think?”

Luke’s smile broadens, knowing they’ll certainly have a lot to celebrate over that meal, “Sounds good.” Everything is falling into place.

Saturday arrives free of murder and mayhem and Luke and Spencer board the train for DC. They don’t bother finding seats, just cling to the bar above and wrap their free arms around each other to ride in a swaying embrace. They’re early enough that they take the time to stroll through the park hand in hand. Luke wants every moment of today to be memorable.

There’s a rose garden along the path, its sweet scent and colorful blooms beckoning them closer.

“Peach roses convey sincerity and gratitude,” Spencer announces as they reach the first bush.

Luke leans in for a sniff, “They smell nice.”

With a neat bow toward the flowers, Spencer nods his agreement. They’re greeted by blooms of fiery orange, blushing pink, sunny yellow, and dusky violet, and Spencer spouts off each meaning like he’s introducing the roses at a fancy party.

Journeying on through the trees, they find a small pond shimmering in the dappled sunlight. Ducks float gently across the surface and a bird’s song is carried over the water.

Spencer stops walking and tugs on their joined hands to get Luke to turn and face him. “I love you,” he smiles, then presses forward for a kiss. It’s soft, patient as the gentle breeze, and they hold each other with sweet caresses.

Around the next bend, across from a picnic area with a large gazebo adorned in vines of white flowers, is the planetarium. Guests are just starting to be let in. A car in the parking lot opens to let out JJ and Will, who then free their children from the back seat.

“Uncle Spence! Uncle Luke!” Henry is the first to spot them and races across the asphalt and up the grassy hill. Once he’s a meter away, he suddenly becomes shy, hands grasping behind his back as he stares down at his feet planted in the lawn.

“Hello, Henry!” Spencer greets cheerfully enough to earn back the child’s smile. “Are you excited for the planetarium?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna see stars!”

“Stars and planets and quasars and other galaxies!” Spencer lists with giddy enthusiasm.

“And Mom said afterward we’re getting pizza with the Simmons’.”

“Mom also says not to run through parking lots,” JJ chides when she reaches them, Michael tucked safely into her hip.

Henry bows his head, “Sorry, Mom.” Then he smiles up at her through his lashes, knowing how to use his cuteness to his advantage, and with an exasperated eyeroll, she smiles back.

Will greets with a friendly nod and announces, “I think I just saw Rossi go in. Everyone ready?”

The BAU team is habitually prompt, all gathering within a few minutes of each other in the entrance. Rossi has a hand wrapped around Tina’s forearm, cozy intimacy hinting at the progress in their relationship. Matt steps through the double doors with twins Lily and Chloe in each arm, followed by Kristy wrangling Jake and David inside. Michael wiggles out of his mother’s hold and with excited squeals the children converge. Garcia arrives next, hand linked with Sam’s, and the solar system adorning her dress matches her boyfriend’s tie. Tara and Prentiss show up together, and before Spencer can think everyone’s here, Morgan steps inside. He’s holding the door for Savannah as she pushes a stroller with their sleeping baby Hank inside.

“Morgan!” Spencer rushes toward him, excitement bursting through every movement, “I didn’t know you were coming!”

Morgan grabs him up in a fond squeeze. “Luke invited us, said it wouldn’t be a BAU family day without us. Of course, this could have been out of guilt over that hole in the wall you think I don’t know about.”

“Oh, come on!” Luke laughs, leaning in for his own back-patting embrace. “We patched that up good as new.”

“If it’s good as new, how’d I notice?” Morgan teases with an easy smile and wag of those impressive eyebrows.

Spencer guides the herd to the exhibit hall, hosting as if this temple to science were his own home. Life In Space contains models of shuttles, images of Earth taken from the space station, and dozens of screens displaying astronauts demonstrating daily tasks in their microgravity home. Reciting information from his own research, Spencer earns a crowd of fascinated children.

“In orbit, astronauts experience only about 90% of Earth’s gravity, rendering them essentially weightless so they float. This means they can’t sleep lying down on a bed, they have to strap themselves to a wall, or else their sleeping bodies will just bump into everything.” Spencer’s clumsy wiggle of his arms is met with a chorus of little giggles.

A showcase of dehydrated meals and a video on space food preparation leads to an inevitable question among children, asked in the innocently curious voice of young Jake Simmons, “How do the astronauts go to the bathroom?”

This gets some giggles from his young peers, but it’s a valid query and Spencer treats it as such, “Well, on launch and descent, and during space walks, they wear maximum absorbency garments, which are essentially diapers.”

The kids latch on to that final word, more laughter bubbling up, “A diaper?” Henry gets out through a belly laugh, “Like a baby?”

“They are, in fact, quite similar,” Spencer confirms seriously. “There are also toilets aboard shuttles and the International Space Station which utilize suction to remove waste.”

“Suction?” Matt’s brows shoot up. “That does not sound comfortable.”

“They do, in fact, require extensive training to operate properly,” Spencer nods. “Unfortunately, they still are not completely effective at eliminating solid waste.”

Matt is about to ask a follow-up question when Kristy lays a hand on his shoulder and asks in her most enticing tone, “Who wants to play on the Lunar Explorer?” She’s met with cheers and guides the way to the attraction.

Luke slides an arm around Spencer’s waist as they bring up the rear and asks, quiet enough for no one else to hear, “Not completely effective?”

Locking eyes, Spencer offers the sober warning, “Never eat a Milk Dud in space.”

“Oh,” Luke’s face twists in disgust,  _ “gross! _ You just ruined Milk Duds for me.”

Spencer’s face goes blank as his mind replays his words and then he winces, “Sorry.”

That will not do. There should not be a moment of sadness on this special day, not for Spencer. Luke presses a kiss to his cheek, “Never apologize for all that knowledge you have stored up there, Cariño.”

A soft smile settles over his face and he sighs away the guilt. He leans into Luke, head tilted toward his strong shoulder, and they rejoin the group.

Garcia becomes the event’s photographer, having everyone smile and pose as she snaps images, with Sam fondly watching her. Henry, Jake, and David are all able to fit in the flight simulator, taking turns pressing buttons and watching in awe as they orbit the moon. Little Hank is too young to operate the contraption, so Morgan lifts him above his head for a toddler-friendly flight experience, winding him between their gathered friends and singing out revving engine noises. Inspired, Michael tugs on his father’s sleeve, eyes wide and begging, and then Lily and Chloe ask simultaneously to be lifted as well. Matt hoists Chloe high, and Luke compensates for the dearth of fathers, showing off his impressive upper body strength flying Lily around.

“You know what this place could use?” Tara turns to Prentiss at the edge of their party.

“A bar,” Prentiss answers easily.

“I’m just saying, nothing makes space more interesting like a couple margaritas.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Rossi jokes, tapping the hand Tina has resting on his shoulder. “Tina would make this place so popular we’d never be able to get in again.”

“Oh, Dave,” Tina caresses his cheek, “you know you’ll always make the VIP list.”

The toddler planes land and clumsily rush off to the next exciting thing, and Luke slots himself back into Spencer’s side. Spence beams at him, squeezing him in a one-armed hug, “This was a great idea. I’m glad we’re doing this.” The words are music to Luke’s ears. He’s absolutely nailing this!

Spencer recognizes the planetarium employee who sold them their stars on their second date all those months ago, as she walks up to them, and he waves, “Chelsea, hi!”

“Hello!” she waves back, her smile huge and bright. She wiggles in excitement, chewing her bottom lip to stifle a delighted squeal. Covert she is not, but it doesn’t matter. Everything is working out perfectly. “We’re ready.”

“Excellent, thank you.” Luke turns to Spencer to offer an explanation, “We signed up for one of the shows we thought everyone would like.”

JJ and Kristy lure their sons from the simulator with promises of cool darkness and awesome stars, and dads pluck up the smaller ones to follow Chelsea into the theater. They have the whole theater to themselves, sitting together in the center chairs and quieting down as the lights dim.

The night sky fills the large screen and Chelsea’s voice comes through the speakers, “Welcome to Stories In The Stars. For millennia, we have looked to the stars and seen our stories: epic battles, enduring love, and the awesome power of fate. Here we have Orion, the mighty hunter.” Constellations are traced and animated to act out the narration. “Orion boasts that he can kill any creature on Earth. This, of course, upsets Mother Earth. Those creatures are her children! Seeing Orion as a threat, she sends Scorpius, the giant scorpion, to battle him, and every year, we can see Scorpius chase Orion across the sky.” Funny sound effects accompany the chase and the kids laugh.

The stars darken as a new story begins, “Zeus was the king of the Greek gods, married to the goddess Hera, but he betrayed his wife. He met in secret with a nymph named Calisto, and together they had a son, Arcas. Hera was furious, taking her rage out on the nymph and transforming Calisto into a bear. Calisto ran and hid in the forest; she couldn’t stay around her family in such a terrifying form! She couldn’t go far, though, because she loved her son and couldn’t leave him. Though she risked being seen, she watched Arcas grow from the edge of the trees. One day, Calisto came across a hunter in the forest, and she recognized him as her son. Forgetting she was a bear, she rushed forward to hug him. Arcas thought the bear was attacking him, and he raised his bow to shoot, not knowing he was aiming at his own mother. It was too tragic; Zeus couldn’t let it happen. He quickly transformed Arcas into a bear like his mother and transported them to the heavens where Calisto could be with her beloved son.” Ursa Major cuddles Ursa Minor, and a few parents relate to that kind of love with soft sighs.

Again they are thrown into total darkness, and there’s a smile in Chelsea’s voice, “There is another story, not as well known, though equally as beautiful, about two warriors.” Two points of light shine in the blackness. “They were wise and brave, and dedicated their lives to protecting people, but Love wanted them to find happiness for themselves, so it brought them together. From lightyears apart, they were united to twinkle at each other for eternity.” The surrounding stars come into view and Spencer instantly recognizes the pattern. Those are their stars, the ones he and Luke named for each other. Brows furrowed in confusion, Spencer turns, but Luke isn’t in his seat.

The house lights come on to reveal Luke down on one knee by Spencer’s feet. He’s holding a small box, which he opens to reveal a ring.

“Spencer Reid,” is all Luke gets out before emotions tighten his throat and he can’t speak. He swallows, blinking back tears that reflect hope for a bright future together. With a shaky breath, he meets his boyfriend’s eyes. Spencer is smiling, surprised and  _ so happy, _ and Luke isn’t going to let anything get in the way of this moment. He keeps their gazes locked, drawing courage from their connection. “Spencer Reid, I could have spent my whole life dreaming up the perfect man and he wouldn’t have held a candle to you. You fascinate me. I fall deeper in love with you every day. I look forward to every moment with you, everything you teach me, every smile, every laugh. I am yours and you are mine. Spencer, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Spencer’s voice is a whisper, breath hitching, and he nods in case Luke didn’t hear him. He tries again, louder, “Yes. Yes! Thank you, yes!” Luke slides on the ring and Spencer feels like this is the greatest gift he has ever received. There’s a moment where they’re just staring at each other with goofy grins of glee. They kiss for the first time as fiances surrounded by the cheers of Spencer’s closest friends and one very enthusiastic planetarium employee.

“This was the most beautiful moment I’ve ever witnessed in my life!” Garcia declares, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you so much for letting us be a part of it!” Spencer rises from his seat, fingers threaded with Luke’s, and Garcia squeezes between the chairs to yank them both into a tight hug.

As soon as Garcia releases them, Morgan comes up behind to fluff Spencer’s hair, “Congratulations, Kid.”

Spinning around, Spencer laughs with joy. He’s still processing everything that’s just happened, and when Morgan tugs him toward his chest, everything feels like happiness and Spencer grips back.

Morgan turns to Luke and drops a hand on his shoulder, “You did good.”

“You raised the bar for all of us is what you did,” Rossi pretends to complain from the next row, fingers linked with Tina’s.

Everyone offers congratulations, joy buzzing in the air. The children laugh happily, some aware enough of what’s going on and others just reacting to the mood.

JJ presses into Spencer’s side and rubs her hand down his back. Together they gaze at his ring, swirled silver and onyx with two asterisks engraved in the band. “It’s beautiful.”

Spencer turns his smile to JJ and whispers in a state of dazed bliss, “I’m engaged.”

After thorough galactic celebration, their friends are released back to their weekends and Spencer and Luke once again walk through the park hand in hand, this time an engagement ring pressing into Luke’s palm.

“You really didn’t see it coming?” Luke checks. “It was a surprise?”

“It was a surprise,” Spencer nods with laughter in his voice. “I did  _ not _ see it coming.”

Luke beams with pride, “I’ve been planning for weeks. It had to be just right.”

“It was absolutely perfect.”

“So are you,” Luke turns to hold Spencer’s face in his warm hand, “I couldn’t be happier you said yes.”

“Of course I said yes, Luke! I love you!”

Luke leans in and they kiss, lingering in a sweet embrace.

Spencer pulls back to ask, “How did you do it? How did you get an entire planetarium to assist you in a proposal?”

Luke huffs out a laugh, scratching the back of his head, “Well, turns out it’s not that unusual to propose there so they’ve got a few things prepared. And you remember Chelsea- she’s a hardcore romantic and was willing to offer some customizing… But what it mostly comes down to is that we are now  _ very _ generous lifetime contributing members. I think it’s referred to as Galactic Sponsorship.”

Spencer’s eyes widen but his face can’t light up any brighter than it already is so this fresh giddiness has to manifest as a hop in his step.

Luke doesn’t even try to disguise his smug pride, already knowing the answer when he asks, “You like that?”

“Very much so!”

The DC streets are bustling with people enjoying the sights and feasts the city has to offer. Couples are dressed to the nines for first dates and anniversaries alike, families cram into tour buses waving small American flags, and children munch on churros as they take in the excitement.

There is a line at LaTache, and Luke has just enough time to worry they won’t get a table before Spencer informs the maitre d’ they have a reservation. They’re instantly guided through the crowd, weaving between tables until the slide of a heavy curtain brings them to a private room. A single table sits in its center elegantly adorned with a thick table cloth and vase of red roses. Champagne chills in a bucket of ice ready to be poured into crystal flutes. Music dances gently in the air, soft lighting a golden romantic glow.

“Wow,” Luke pauses in the doorway to take it all in, “this is  _ nice.” _

“I wanted this to be special,” Spencer pulls out a chair for Luke, a shy smile playing on his lips.

Luke cocks his head, eyes squinting with suspicion, “Are you  _ sure _ you didn’t know I was proposing today?”

“I’m sure,” Spencer chuckles. “I had no clue.”

Satisfied, Luke closes the gap between them and presses a kiss to Spencer’s cheek before taking his seat. The menu hasn’t changed much since their previous visit, but it is still just as french, so Luke has Spencer translate until he’s narrowed down his choices. “I’m between the coq… chicken thing and the fish soup.”

“The coq au vin and the soupe de poisson à la rouille? Let’s get both and we can share.”

“Really?” Luke’s surprise is evident before he schools the expression. Splitting dishes for maximum flavor potential is a Luke solution, not a Spencer one, but Spencer stepping outside his comfort zone for Luke’s happiness is hardly novel. Spencer meets his eyes when he nods and Luke reaches across the table to take his hand. “Okay, but you’re gonna have to be the one who orders.”

Spencer laughs, squeezing Luke’s hand, and Luke can feel that new engagement ring pressed between their skin. It fills him with a joy so intense it blocks out all thoughts except one.

“You said yes.”

Spencer’s eyes flash to the ring, knowing what Luke’s referring to. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

Luke lets himself ponder that a moment. “It’s important. That makes it scary. I know once I asked I wasn’t going to be able to breathe until you answered.”

“I’m glad I answered quickly, then.”

“So am I!” Luke laughs.

“There was never a doubt,” Spencer’s face is serious in his sincerity. “A life with you? As yours? My answer will always be yes.”

Luke finds himself staring at that statement, eyes wide and glistening, fingers linked with Spencer’s. “It’s gonna be beautiful.” He chokes himself up a bit, swallows and chuckles at his own emotions. “Everyone was excited to be there today. I’m so glad they could make it. It took every ounce of will for Garcia not to spill the beans to you over your lunches, and I think JJ was as excited as I was. Rossi just kept talking to me in Italian but I’m pretty sure he was happy for us.”

“Thank you, for inviting them. It meant a lot to me to have them there.”

“It meant a lot to them, too. They love you, Spencer. I’m also seriously considering inviting Chelsea to the wedding. She’s, like, really invested in us.”

The waitress arrives, filling their flutes before Spencer recites their order. She leaves them with warm bread and softened butter. Spencer leaves most of the butter for Luke because he knows how much he loves that creamy spread, and Luke tears off an edge piece so Spencer can enjoy the softer middle of the loaf.

“You know what we should plan?” Luke asks around a buttery bite.

Spencer’s eyes widen as a list forms in his mind, “Catering, floral, music, a venue…”

“The honeymoon! Where do we want to go?”

“Oh,” Spencer relaxes into this far more pleasant topic. “Preferably not someplace cold.”

“Agreed,” Luke laughs. “I think I’ve used up my charitable coat quota.”

“Beaches are nice, even if I get sand in my sweater vest,” Spencer smirks.

“With your language skills, you could get us around in half the world.”

“I’d prefer to remain in the country. With all the traveling we do, there are still so many places we haven’t seen.”

“And so many places I have seen that I’d love to see again with you. They’ve got these hot air balloons that float you over vineyards in Napa. Oh, and there are ziplines in Kauai that take you straight through the rainforest.”

“Those sound...high.”

“Do you dislike heights?”

“I suppose my issue is less with the distance from the ground and more with the impending drop to it.”

“Noted. How about a train ride through the Rocky Mountains?”

“I  _ do _ love trains.”

“I know you do.”

Their dinner arrives and it is just as divine as their second date, crispy and tender textures carrying perfectly balanced flavors. It steals their focus, silencing them with each savory bite. Only when the empty plates are whisked away is the trance lifted.

“That was amazing,” Luke moans, still enjoying the taste lingering on his tongue.

“I hope you saved room for dessert.”

Luke leans to one side, slowly twisting his hips as a hand rubs over his stomach. He rights himself and announces with pride, “I made room!”

Spencer laughs, bubbles of joy lifting into the air, and dessert arrives. Luke is surprised. They haven’t ordered anything, haven’t even seen the dessert menu, so surely this is meant for another table. But Spencer doesn’t seem confused. No, he’s just watching Luke as the treat is set on the table, lips curved in a shy smile.

They’ve been given cheesecake cut into the shape of a star. Sitting on top are two plastic rings, silver loops linked together. Raspberry sauce outlines hearts across the plate.

Spencer rises from his seat, comes around the table and kneels before Luke on a single knee. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulls out a gold band with a large square ruby.

Luke finds himself holding his breath a second time today, shock and anticipation freezing him in place.

“Luke,” Spencer takes a steadying breath before meeting Luke’s eyes, “I didn’t know I was waiting for you my whole life until I met you, and you held my hand, and I finally understood what true happiness feels like. I once debunked the concept of soulmates as people simply acclimating to preferred circumstances, but with you… Luke, with you food tastes better, colors are brighter, music sounds sweeter, and everything just makes more sense. If that isn’t proof of perfect love, nothing could be. Now,” Spencer chuckles softly, “I know I’m a little late. There’s a ring on my finger; we’re already engaged. But I planned this speech about how much I love you and you deserve to hear it.”

Luke huffs out a small laugh and a tear escapes his lashes. He can’t believe what’s happening but he doesn’t dare interrupt.

“I want to keep waking up in a bed I share with you, with Roxy hogging the covers, and your arms around me and my head on your chest where I can hear the steady beat of your heart. I want our forever to mean texting asterisks to each other and rewatching Doctor Who a thousand times and drinking our millionth cup of coffee out of those TARDIS mugs and eating that same curry over and over again because you still love it. And you still love me. And I love you. So Luke, would you please do me the honor of wearing this ring and saying you’ll be my husband?”

Breath shaking with tears, Luke drops to the ground and pulls Spencer into a tight hug.  _ “Spencer! _ Of course I will. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” There’s relief in his voice, like even though this is their second proposal of the day he feared it might go wrong.

Luke pulls back, holding out his hand so Spencer can slide on the ring. It looks familiar, this precious new symbol of their love now gleaming on his hand, and a memory tickles deep in his mind.

Spencer explains, “It was your grandfather’s ring.”

“You got my grandpa’s ring?”

“Yes, I asked your parents how I could make this more special for you and they told me you were close, so it should be his ring.”

Luke wipes at his eyes and his laughter morphs into a laden sigh. Filled to the brim with intense emotions, he leans into Spencer for grounding strength. Then something rather important occurs to him, “Wait, my parents knew you were gonna propose?”

“Yes,” Spencer glides soothing fingers through Luke’s hair.

“My parents knew  _ I _ was gonna propose!”

“Wha-  _ really?” _

“Yes! They know we were planning these for the same day and they said nothing.”

“They’re actually waiting for us to call, on your phone. They specified a video call.”

Luke has to check a couple pockets before locating his phone, still flustered from the surprise on his finger. With a few swipes across the screen, the app connects them with the Alvezes, and Spencer and Luke squeeze close to fit in the screen.

Joe and Rita both have pleasant smiles, not showing a hint of their insider knowledge. Rita speaks first, her tone only slightly leading, “So, are you boys having a good evening?”

Together, Spencer and Luke hold up their adorned hands, rings sparkling for the camera.

Rita cries for joy, clinging to Joe as a silent tear slides down his smiling face. “Our boy is engaged!”

“Congratulations, you two,” Joe nods at them proudly. “Luke, we always knew you’d find someone really special to bring into our family. Spencer, we couldn’t be happier to have you.”

Touched, Spencer’s voice comes out a whisper, “Thank you so much.”

“You knew,” Luke shakes his head but a smile breaks out on his face and his shoulders are shaking with laughter. “You knew we were both planning this and you didn’t say anything.”

“Of course we didn’t say anything!” Rita throws her hands up, “What, you wanted us to ruin the surprise?”

“I talked with you about this yesterday! How did you keep a straight face?”

Rita levels her famous stare at the screen, softened with a slight smile, “You think you’re the only one in this family who can keep a secret?”

“Well, thank you,” Luke acquiesces. “This was the happiest surprise of my life.”

“Oh, Honey,” Rita turns to Spencer, “I’m glad you still went through with it.”

“Though it may have technically been redundant, I wanted Luke to hear how much he means to me.”

Rita sighs happily at that. “Oh, Lukie, your grandpa would be so proud to see you wearing that ring. Hey,” she squints, “are you boys on the floor?”

They are, in fact, sitting cross-legged on the thin carpet while their perfectly comfortable chairs go unused. Luke explains, “This is where he proposed, Ma.”

“Right there?” Rita tilts her head as if she can get a better view of their surroundings. “Oh, that’s so romantic! Isn’t that romantic, Joe?”

Joe nods, “We don’t mean to keep you on this special night. We’ll let you get back to celebrating.”

“Your father’s right. We’re just so happy for you. Thank you for calling! We love you both!” Rita taps the screen and the call ends.

Luke reaches up to rest his phone on the table then turns to Spencer with a soft smile, “Hello, Fiancé.”

“I like that,” Spencer marvels. “Fiancé. It sounds nice… But don’t retire Cariño.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So,” Luke waggles his eyebrows, “cheesecake?”

Roxy greets them with a happy tap dance as soon as they walk through the door, tail whipping about in excitement.

Spencer pets her with one hand and holds the other in front of her face to show off the ring, “Look, Roxy! We’re engaged!”

She sniffs the offered hand, still just pleased they’re home.

“That’s right, Rox,” Luke scratches her behind the ear as he shows her his own ring. “Your daddies are getting married!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween 2020! If you're reading this ten years in the future and thinking "there's no way FoggyBlues is still checking comments," trust me, I will be. This story is basically my proudest accomplishment and every comment is cherished.
> 
> Keep an eye out for the next installment of Touch: To Have And To Hold.


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